ambient/nightfall.

the schism of ultra-metaphoric-
alist lacan & reemerging blaise
painted the town invisible like
wind that's not made of water..
it's a glitch arcade, referring

to itself in the first person &
hanged phosphene physics with a
hand in the indian ocean simul-
taneously resonates filler yel-
low filter sketching gates, yes

to all the questions didn't de-
ny and summer fever like trees,
beginning to end polling samson
the found installation scatter-
ed this coca, cola, and coffee;

divisor you are pretty and per-
fectly coiffed: coffin rest par
excellence coming up to the sun
incinerating idiom, oh match me
pattern, tribune and i'm steep-

ing like pyramidions negative &
landed owner pushed the vietnam
over the loudspeaker, political
geometry is also known as being
and time.. never stop, just say

these true words to me forever:
if it's made to order, then why
isn't it orderly? and--stacking
the puns like so--why does that
sunset discipline us religious.

good/infinity.

the rolling and thundering con-
gruent with concord, course our
initiation scored like tighten-
ing the logic of availabilities
and the background, the history

waves hello with an optimistic-
al smile that precedes existent
essence, a chemical is bursting
to be born in the body and also
its brain: did you ever begin a

flight and then think perhaps i
am being dreamt? all wet cover-
ed over in nontoxic paint which
was applied with fingers.. also
trumpeting announcement beside;

it's easy to love: this is that
insistence that knock-kneed and
opening lives in the rooted and
praises being irresponsibly be-
cause there is no blame that we

can have, and yet there is this
urge to overstandingly outsmart
the baddened eternal: which got
out of bed & looked around say-
ing, "well, i'll be," and every

heart understands that the more
& more abstractive has the less
and less instruction, or other-
wise, "the faster we go, is the
rounder we get," sleep's maxim.

concealment/removal.

no kicking, two are more honest
than loads of birds: one sight-
ed with jovial merchandise, ir-
radiated the musculature you're
going to use next, because i'll

be honest with you: i'm not go-
ing to defend myself--or anyone
else--but i feel like i should,
and it's making me ill.. symbol
tired needing an injected thea-

trical bliss, chewed-on cheek &
the enormous pleading which re-
sults in community, you may not
care, hear, feel, or see or any
of these, but that's my career;

plain paper bag, knocking order
insists with totally obliviated
slicks and caricature, career &
pastime-- full-throated erasure
that fastens itself to a moment

that might last forever! epist-
le to myself but we can discuss
it, oh you, centuries of dusted
furniture that nonetheless vib-
rates like the energy subsisted

long enough to form a man and a
woman and their one true child:
what a wild adventure that ever
after has an happy ending, less
of the recuperation & more joy.

persian/maths.

triangular panegyric that seed-
ed the fey, sleepy boundaries..
maybe try something different a
time or two? as-is pocketful of
iron pyrite that gazes, applied

with a brush and maybe stacking
snares-- no-one home bemused as
a brilliant rush of relativity,
it's a trick, see? so internal-
ly pure and awarded letter like

the spartan flighted emmy & hu-
go, a merely unpronounceable qi
that gusts like solid cold wind
and settles, dusking quartered,
into the laughter and applause;

axiomatisation is surely possi-
ble if you ask me: and i didn't
want to wake to the kiss of the
spider woman, but--upon reading
enough books--one tends to fall

a bit faster, proving.. what? i
rhymed, bubbling over the safe-
ty and its implications, but do
you know what i learned? i felt
my muscles moving northeastern,

as if if i kept on walking some
day i would have alchemised the
pocketful into something like a
windfall: oh, it was redoubling
all the time that i was silent.

cuban/oldie.

why talk about music, anyway? a
book full of sheets to the wind
and hymnlike strains repeating,
the fluid is nice.. chopping up
my body to put it on a page can

get tedious if i'm made of any-
thing less luminous: high-grade
low spark, hacking like a spade
and breaking up fallow ground--
technically, nothing is memora-

ble or past-tense, as if flames
were wrapped around you like so
many swaddling sheets, and may-
be you call yourself a genius &
you're always right, sometimes;

anyway the repetitive nature of
prescription covers up the vib-
ration like israel and acoustic
clarity, i can say "anyway" and
mean it because i've treaded an

absolute & infinite eternity of
paths recursively, occasionally
and it's really good! headacher
minstrel won't let me hold this
instrument, and in responsibil-

ity i plan out series of themes
that can be held in the hands..
frames upon samplers with money
changing faces, you had to walk
so hard that you bled, goodbye.

klaxon/bemuse.

presupervisual suppositions and
blockheaded nonsense floating a
deconstruction into the wheels,
they tend to ride on despite an
opposition & you've got me, the

girl is so good: so spoonerised
that she eyes in her stars, big
shaolin rave subbassed and hard
like the rock within the pipe--
downspouted dissatisfaction she

blends with the occult methodo-
logy to make retroactive calcu-
lus adhere to the poi and spin-
ning fire of maximal exertion &
disinhibited sleep, eulogising;

oh come over, come down lulling
the dulled shoeblade it doesn't
matter what it means anymore, a
voice that intimates stimulants
shredding sixty-fourth notes o-

pen the ground of lilting skip-
ping silver, instructions carry
texts and dead sea: killer, who
are you to walk into my bedroom
and disturb my panopticon? have

tryst and dada film, unspooling
unspoilt spilt split cataclysms
and redundant and vibrato video
that holds just such as a cent-
ury of diminishing information.

galassassa/paywall.

reduction, confronted the green
vista of highwaymen, thieves we
stole into the interstate comb-
ing the floors of rivers & sit-
ted the throne upright in situ-

ationist demolish serious cult-
ure: break my sternum with that
colourable and precious lolling
around the park days that you'd
done, not trying to be feminist

or politically correct, or even
a person of colour: but i'd got
my own palette nonetheless, can
subside into the bath simmering
with salt & bas-relief octaves;

whatever this is it can hold no
sway over us, anymore-- drinker
of chalk and reviewer of books,
metropolitan in the expanse the
moving sidewalk pencilled in to

illustrate and redefine a spur-
ious lack that tells the entire
story of my childhood and later
adolescence and subsequent mat-
urity-- whatever this is it can

fuck right off, in my opinion &
the modes are cliché, the woman
bowed out before the third act,
and the psychiatrist is student
to the child: dreadful agonies.