hybrid/labour.

lifter and the power and coherent
pearls, not before swine or reach
for the sky--as in, on its behalf
and commonry--the dizzied purview
of privilege and imprisonment.. i

thought, momentarily that to pos-
sess a mind would lead to release
but there are such as wind, keys,
and even gold that can be sharper
than any instrument entold by the

enfolding embrace of parenthood &
its concomitant innocence--which,
if worn from the inside out, her-
meneutically, is perpetual--given
without price, world without end;

vertigo washes as if the techne i
need to accomplish myself upon my
memory, a blessing in disguise to
be so clichéd because, oh because
to be beautiful is to be puissant

and pursued.. goodbyes floated in
inflammable liquors that i cannot
bring myself to burn, like the a-
gainstist mercy that never arriv-
es in time to blunt the scalpel--

there are bones, however, harden-
ed in temperance by the instruct-
ions of perhaps some other aeon &
gives voice to the tired and poor
and huddled masses, at what cost.

cycle/betruth.

clicky, cutting countoff that i'd
seen burst forth like a butterfly
emerges from the sunned scattered
plot with the icicles and irides-
cence to prove it.. patrician and

severity with anniversaries, near
not feared, oh how does this ever
apply to our lives, and at such a
time? the questioner itself might
be viewed irreligious and insane,

but i'm sympathetic to a fault: a
wintered summary that wickedness,
following into the peacock's wake
won't disrupt/disturb an envelop-
ing bass that calms like a truth;

i can feel the applause and ador-
ation rising on the planes, half-
girl paradigm shattering sky, yet
told more lovely-- entirely unvi-
olent but encompassionately ultra

and redeeming valuable, she's got
tired of the attention but cannot
give it up foreverwise, and if we
have a word of caution, it sounds
something like the road does when

travelled in mystery: i am always
asking for something even when my
mouth is closed and you have ever
risen to the occasion with little
smoke, lasers, and simple things.

postfeminist/immanence.

i feel an impetus rising in these
walls: as it were a plague on our
house but we've long since earned
immunity, all the infinities, and
their eternities, wolved with the

woebegone ugliness of intelligent
fire.. i don't despise myself but
i'm learning to grow into a shell
built for me by an innocent & who
dwelt in hell-- how i long to ad-

vocate for contralto advice & the
grasping impenetrability that you
suspect would divine us into per-
haps another world like annie for
a while, no not the one you know;

the tenth track on the disc isn't
always the best, but it makes you
most immaculate: laser-guided be-
yond impeccability through to the
crowflight fidgeting, that summum

bonum that feels like progressive
house in the early evening, oh my
god i am full of contraindication
and need a builder to construct a
purpose for my life, any ideas? i

surrender my infants' breath to a
chromatic angel whose wrists, yet
intact are the terminal for tears
that begin in the heart and you'd
not expect such but help survive.

collapsible/courtyard.

sleeping milky with the attribute
of attrition, nay all these wars,
hallelujah people that march into
the tide with the fearlessness of
someone who knows god.. untressed

but purposefully, as if her style
wasn't vital or heady, but she is
become the indica girl euphoriant
and sibilant with the soul-smack-
ing sense of it, all while watch-

ing the fanblades revolve (in re-
verse) to cool us and soothe, the
air renewed by movement in a con-
structive vector and the science,
it falls unexplainable and vapor;

spirit revelational my father let
us fly-- making things by methods
such as poiesis and instructional
moving video, anyway half-bidden:
prepared for an afterlifetime our

eyes will weep to see and lifted,
in this faith and order to listen
with the perception of those made
in-between, we are more than con-
querors through him who loved us:

if you believe, if you can feel a
motion inwardly and recognize the
hebrew tongue, and if you wrapped
your arms around your child today
you're as invited as anyone else.

désirée/victorious.

struggle to sustain: interest and
parties and blocks with lettering
that spells things like the names
of the future children who've al-
ready bowed, author their origami

which is prevalent in the stores,
books, and stones-- foreverhaired
girl who smiles the brilliant pun
leaning into the wind occasional-
ly putting her feet out the wind-

ow: how has this been so graceful
as to attract wild life, and what
are we going to do about quarter,
after the sun burns away the math
and we've naught to swim but sea;

oh yes, the grace is sufficient &
it kind of feels so different now
that we've got our fingers on the
pulse-- radical whitening shadows
that sing to you of numerology as

well as the thousand-yard stare &
tracing the jawline to stuff that
scarecrow full of straw, it scar-
red me: in languages as yet unde-
fined-- staying up all night man-

ic and depressive, blackened fact
with placebo rhythm to sharpen up
the nervous system and wring some
confession out of us, which is no
less than we deserve, truth told.

craftsmanship/supposedly.

megalithium and poseurmyth melted
with true 303 rhythms: the alter-
ed flight of inscrutable puzzles,
which denounce the anxiety of in-
fluence in favour of the posh and

comfortable christianities wedded
with seen diluvian antechambers &
their attentions-- divided, as if
the sky, and liquid as well, like
funk in the twenty-first century:

it's not really as facile as that
though, because ever--but not al-
ways--looming in the people's way
is the shadow of the vista of the
son of hinnom, may henna compete;

illustrated rioting campus singer
and her rings on her fingers--and
toes--and a coiffure like the sun
and the magniloquent, feverish id
that blacked out taking the night

off when confronted & glassed for
trying to play her cello: all the
world's a stage: in a phase sense
you look good and good looks come
in necessary (not merely handy) i

have learnt and misspelt and gave
up on educating myself other than
to listen always-- all the ways i
can listen are omnibenevolent and
even just foreign enough to work.

anthology/feedback.

the album of gentle waves, isobel
left in the woods and what should
she discover there but a witch? i
recommended a house, but there is
never enough time--when it's been

divided, like the sky--to foresee
banal eventualities such as death
and this is the macrocosm.. teach
me, instead, a professional lyric
that'll not return unto him void:

the kindness of regeneration, and
the literature of exhaustion, and
the love of everything other than
oneself up to and including yours
which is in mine that hands hold;

sharpening images compare the yet
and heretofore stolid immalleable
with the everpliant and complaint
that make up the sum of comedy: a
nation needs azalean refreshments

like water needs roots, and there
was formerly blood on the leaves,
sap within the medulla of angelic
potentialities which could become
turned-inside-out for the benefit

of gracious personages and which-
ever principles they set forth: i
let ourselves be anewened, awake,
o sustain of velocity and sweeten
the sickness comforting the poor.