dutiful/syncretism.

the responsible allayed the needy
impulse for rotation, and illust-
rated an example of trance-induc-
ing architecture, the city centre
exploding like the ambulance--and

its fireworks--within the picture
of a young blonde woman who'd got
impressionist with the ichor of a
nightly circle, erudite as you'll
please and full of opera that had

been sewn to her ribs with a silk
network also comprising holy lit-
erature and the desire to experi-
ence something outside of the wit
of incendiaries & a billingsgate;

it's not what i've stopped and in
point of fact, it's not what i've
started: the rabelaisian and that
obscure moraliser met with merely
approximate wingspan, and was any

one reviled? announcing the mult-
ivarious reasons that nest inside
each other like a matryoshka doll
mise en abyme, all correspondence
contraband in the old dark age of

filial, historian intertext-- the
nodal lines of the vibration mode
are interrogated and have been u-
surped for the empire's survival:
come with me if you want to live.

icicle/mesh.

grand plan of returnal autumns, a
chance throw of tiles and skipped
reminder of glacial velocity that
moves at the speed of light which
is diffused through that very ice

and expressionist coined verbiage
that is honestly a lot more along
the lines of foliage: fewer steel
songs sung in the age of ramparts
and loving oneself whatever comes

of it.. i'm finding myself trying
to impress with wit, but instead,
tending to interisolate, the mem-
ory of which inspires me to plat-
itudes and loose ballet: to play;

i've gotten quite a bit too sharp
for my own persistence of memory,
having written about absence with
presence staring me starryeyed in
the face, like jarry, or leonora:

this is not a poetics of failure,
although we're more than conquer-
ors through him who loved us, re-
placing the space with smoke, and
confessionals underscored with my

own endemic irony, oh, this could
drag me into an early grave, if i
let it, but as honest as i can be
is the man i've been made and for
sure it's a marvelous denouement.

chalk/smithwork.

observances, and absorptions, our
intuited entrée: ever so maximum,
and the remonstrated remembrances
that coil tightly in time's fists
as it beats you over the head-- a

compleat obligation to reverse in
midways, the bulletin-point with-
drawal that's undeniably a state-
ment.. this is what i'd hand into
my editor if i wanted her to com-

mit me to an asylum-- otherwisely
duplex characterisation of stars'
own peace: first the nodding, be-
calmed strum, and lately the well
poised turn of phrase, delivered;

warm and enveloping, like a comb-
filtered chatterbox, listening to
itself grow into a real boy, or a
real girl.. an insouciant present
that lags a little behind him/her

in dismantling the legactical in-
fluence punching us in the muscle
and expecting you to flinch-- you
know, if there isn't anything mu-
sical to sing about, and if there

isn't anything literary enough to
write about, it's okay: it's okay
to fall prey to the womb's subtle
wisdom, though it's a bit riskier
than i'd attempt to stay forever.

arrayed/signifies.

careen around the fountain, metal
skipping rope imagist with all of
our pretense and torque.. isn't a
walk in the surf, boy, the event-
ual decline? surely intent, chess

for the twittering mass, catholic
and fretting upon the footwork a-
while with needled mentasm & that
concurrent species of aggravation
which spiralling, rings out, inv-

iting applause for: both the girl
and her governess, the scientific
applications of revealed religion
vis a vis heading home for sleep,
and counting sheep, with pillows;

there exists a vast, nagualist a-
vocation that's subsumed by warm,
round sound that anyway pinpricks
like a dose of medicine with even
a spoonful of sugar: contretemps,

covalent investiture towards life
everlasting and immanentised with
the teleological inversion of the
physics of mathematics.. i really
don't know how to make it anymore

plain-- evidence taken pleasurab-
ly and coagulated to make arabian
scaled belletristic liquor out of
a relentless, allusive literature
that amounts to lived experience.

verbatim/neutral.

sky upon skies, and ichor subsets
with the mechanical drama of lov-
ers' eskimo kisses and light his-
tory: it could've been comic, but
wrapped up with a punchline-- its

hyperlinks reaching to embrace an
usurping ursprach, lily and leila
in the squat parties coloring the
scene with class and verve, as if
a threefold cord cannot be quick-

ly broken.. oh the living potent-
ialities of paraphrase move me to
sit radiant and meditating for an
epoch or so and letting the angel
speak so forth move nowhere fast;

half again over and nonesuch with
reinvigorations and west virginia
and of course garage, just burned
off the gossamer for access to my
golden braid: i am an instigator,

a good liar and deep sleeper with
time on my side and my hands, are
you? rides a train in ultramodern
tokyo with all the tech house and
triangle waves instead of addict-

ion, allow me to disabuse you the
notion that everything that feels
good is good for you, an activist
city inhabited by saints of these
crafts that compare with harmony.

essene/ballad.

ceramic intaglio rosette with the
stained-glass soul of compassion-
ate lives left lived, building to
an heavenly climax: that sustains
throughever for the glory of love

integral and kind.. used to be my
mussed hair and charms, into this
becoming that is comely and good,
innocent childrens' laughter that
buoys the seat of haloed, temper-

ate, languaged ages--and its rock
will not erode however sunlit his
sea--crafted with the care of the
gardener, roll over me with space
& our permanent autonomous zones;

i only want to lift love in hands
cleaned by beatitude, singing al-
leluia without end, and settle my
face in the everlasting gaze-- on
a march and evening yourself into

the image of mirrored wits match-
ed resounding eternal with quali-
fied angels whose breathing, syn-
chronized with the symphonic past
to generate future, rings veriti-

es beyond temporal comprehension,
whitens the stormed seasons of an
obvious currency, and comes conf-
ident again ahead operatically: a
long story that ends quite happy.