folk/technique.

what is an obsession, anymore and
anyway? the scales of it are both
green with the texture of curren-
cy, and tonic as the octave of my
forgotten folio and having ending

in sight, and sigils-- formerly i
could tend and steal simultaneous
inventions that made me cold, but
becalmed: this was the femininity
bursting forth with the forces of

serene vectors and sketched pass-
ion, that would always exist, al-
though i have become more skepti-
cal as time marches on.. somewhat
blanketed with the junk of ideas;

i don't have to think, or ask my-
self questions, to wrap myself up
in the turmoil of a joke gone too
far-- we are wives' men, all most
confident lame and kings of not a

bridge or its land but the emoti-
onally safe satisfaction which is
imputed by speakers and their ar-
rays of meanings: sun rises east-
erly in order to soothe a troubl-

ed breast with the softly surreal
signals of antediluvian centuries
that barely woke before they were
carried away with mouths and this
hint of bricking seventeenliness.

cognitive/euphony.

euphemist with a cause: black no-
thingness cannot elide the gentle
scents and colours of a year gone
grand, the child's home where the
weary rest from their labours-- a

tree grows in the soil, which has
been nurtured by responsible life
and is not inured to hardship: is
not culpable of the having forgot
what it means to breathe oxygen &

cannot possibly be named in one's
own language-- this takes our god
who is everlasting and true, mak-
er of a threefold chord and ring-
ing out, it entwines us in bliss;

now that i've got my motive clear
i pledge to honour myself and the
mystical other, whether with palm
or psalmistry, because i know one
of you tends the branches of your

revealing science, and whatsoever
vow i make, i surely keep-- haven
awaiting in the kingdom of forev-
er and it subsists within, like a
breeze can blow inside this atmo-

sphere and that atmosphere is not
more or less than a vital whole i
found myself revealed to wherever
the universe is unbroken and good
precious light keeps up a record.

wind/glitz.

punk has to be somewhat literate,
or it collapses inward spiralling
like the flower of discord assum-
es a second mother tongue for the
benefit of the native assembly, a

mechanics of progressive house to
sit in and be surrounded by-- no-
thing ever arises from the depths
of nonsense to smack you in veins
that were supposed to carry blood

to discrete parts of your body, i
think, and if it did you probably
wouldn't be able to step under or
around the tanktreading immanence
of it or at least without injury;

this is ultimately private: scal-
ar legions and the rule of the a-
bandoned ritual that was formerly
the war, stand up or lie on earth
for a while, you're on the clock,

as it is & can nevertheless still
the moving pictures with this in-
nate sound.. bounce graphics into
artistry with the finesse of let-
tered, flowing people: how are we

going to get them from one nation
to the next? i hid in my admonit-
ions and rediscovered an automat-
ic ascendancy, which was platinum
& weaponised, but i don't use it.