Saturday, April 16, 2011

There's Something Written on the Head of This Transmission Terminated

I want to take a moment to tell you everything
is okay, liars are always polish, I have the list.
fibbing by the way is a word for salvation, oddly
as nuns are all blondes yet it can’t save this one
small unassuming one. she was a part time
bartender with elevatory tone. the limping journey
home of an old shed caller, for whom no special use
is, in this case, in fact, a deciding tilt.
which brings us, of course, to the subject of art.
he’s his own dental dangers animation.
it took him a month the length of a day in central
Florida to arrive at that, not counting the dance
break and, thank god for Tylenol mist,
what appears before you is the result of blue-
ball sciences: a full frontal prototype of plastique
we can take to the carnival. Do some hometown
trading. Not, perhaps, the in-flight subject the artist
whispered about as a possible catastrophe how-to
seminar junket. But collaborative melodrama is,
by nature, smoldering with the power to make you
hungry. The bin into which you plunge with ceramics
replaced in our hearts by the boundless expressiveness
of kickboxing.

submarine dancers. in the tropics the dancers
are restricted to performing only in the area
of the body. disarray is a game similar to our own
Russian charades. expect to experience a little muscle
soreness. aching is the best thing for it when we talk
of stress and/or names. you might call one one thing
and bet on the other wanting to be called that one
thing instead. it’s a losing battle. teach each to master
the plunger and inhibit any designs on making a life
of it, illinois or otherwise. gurgle when you know they aren’t
awake. odds are stacked heavily in your favor during the trial.
they will both be exonerated, I see it in the cards in my tomb.
you are too round for any other outcome to be possible.
you’re wasted.

that afternoon the twins threw over commercial reconstruction.
it seemed as if world-beater wreathes were not in the picture.
two days is clearly, for clarity of purpose and sticktoitiveness,
the difficult age. we find aggression an aesthetic manifesting
itself in sometimes subtle forms of waitress mutilation, and in
other cases the carpet bombing becomes a valuable tool.
I work a crane, therefore a crane does not work me. I am,
therefore I crane. accidents are ideal settings for acting out
irrational thoughts of blood loss, bone puncture behaviors.
supplier, meet your new yankee. jack, I was neutered on the x
where you fell out of a sense of the acoustically bungled.
let the tiretrack mew, the best thing to do is a maple-leaf
rag. music can ruin a chest faster than one loaded idea.
a true friend yells to bury your gasping.

things are not as animal as they seem. synonym for amiable.
a worm to the uninformed. none of us down here between tunnels
a10 and a12 are informed on any subject. the rapture of calculating
your rate of undress against the consumption of the fans.
it’s very acute, so a handful of the more resourceful attempt
to mount a production using only the corroded bodies
of paris week survivors as principals. aboveground smoke-
pots, purely symbolic, represent the fact that we all have habits.
averting is the one strategy that might get you through
to the rally in a Dearborn hotel ballroom. Hysteria spreads
like a telepathy. I see the birds with the teeth in my mind.
men and women and the others scramble, frantic, for a sex
partner to end on. The trampled look nice in their new context.
arrangement appears to be some sort of key.

this is not a good time for me.
I only do basic cutwork.
you can get another inch out of me,
but that’ll have to be it. unless you want
another inch. I’ll put you in touch with your material,
but no promises on risk. or how hard it has to be
before the rate structure changes.
the search takes in an expanse of wooded
trees. an area peopled by squeegees, the chills
and a hard-boiled approach to life.
I won’t lie to you about the chances.
I won’t talk to you at all.
this has become a civilized matter and that’s a language
thing, we don’t do those in this department.

gazing lamely, nearly timeless, across the grazed hillside.
it fell right over there, where the zap marks are clearly
manmade. no one factor is to blame. just the fact
of the impregnation, the bewitchment of a whole global skate
park, the flagrant avoidance of insipidity in your statement.
an intrigue encumbered by a chronic slap enveloped
in a standard business-proof envelope concealed
in the antidote case under your seat. the xerox
equipment to read the xeroxes of each thing it took
since rebuilding post-war asthma to gather and collate
no longer exists. none of what was ever put on paper
can be read. we have to turn to space.
they have the compound locked down, subsisting on mice.
call in the negotiator, fit her with an exoskeletal saying.

this one says on.
all the others say bitterly amusing
or wrested from the jaws.
I found sequins on the floor where she had the seizure, kept
some as souvenirs. the bringing together of incoherence
and a flaming mr. coffee is how international taste-makers
are made. I’m only as opulently a sneeze as a bedside clock is
the tact lacked by the intervals.
you’d like a bath now. some freshly harvested poetics
from the garden in the exercise yard. the time to get it
wrong again. what must monsieur broom air be thinking?
he beat the euphonium till it bled stardust. am I blue?
I know an atom when a bomb reminds me of silk bones.
I can drop dead as corny as the next guy.

so at last they pulled the holes out, brought in the big artillery,
the fit of the suits and the feel, a bright new awful soreness,
conviction and seats on the various housetops at parade time,
millions donated tibias and unarmed dolls, the nucleus dwarf
did his skateboard routine to great reviews, a game came out
wherein you pardon the act but fry the families of the witnesses,
an age of wrinkled little black cocktail dresses, the compulsory dick
tracy underarm snubnose law, Jackson became statistically the most
common name to visit dallas at fall color time, the antecedents
were all provided for, the tardy hanged, that whatsis country stopped
being European, pandemonium replaced the unsingable becoming
the new no-sing anthem, mousse the national dessert.
traditionally, rita was still dead of dementia, the rest remained astigmats.

went down to the clinic to have my nerve removed.
started preaching on the merits of a unified stereo theory.
bought a pocket yacht.
hauling cargo helps with the rebuilding costs.
do you have a pen on you?
my right hand has been swamped lately.
Indigestion is a fulltime job.
a buck just to fall through the ice at the desert end of the pond.
and this phobia that I might develop a droning in my ears.
this years "capsule is…?" contest has me abstracted.
I don’t know the colors anymore, where they go.
the dark is just another consumer.
and I wrote a letter that impressed me enough to frame it.
but I still pity marriage as an institution without refrains.

able graybeard.
stud blender.
perjury compensation.
The arthritis solo.
item to tumble dry.
feet that beep.
undressed and waiting for a bandmaster.
day remorseful as sunlight.
clog dancing at sex division.
the flash.
wax drizzled on flower.
the hatless fouled by canopy.
monumental erection.

the restlessness and it’s hotelkeeper
at pancakes again overnight
menacing admirers before they jump
invariably they get it then don’t they go sublet
to some elvis despiser klatch? your best bones
on their kick it down to a peg we can gravitate
over books. in that spirit lies the absolute
set out in portions and thick, willing steak.
I hid the bits in a streak of light in a web dancer
as a humanized commixture, anglo-indian
lives in the heated part under the jew
mistletoe. a whole colony of the disinterested in radio
they’ll have to snowball through. By that time I will have
blushed and pressed the ledge vertical.

hail to the beard of the car-conscious sphincter
of car-ferry mind and rude to plane
as inferior of icefall and overeating to bells
as car as murder weapon is to salamander
this is some nice fabric, glad I ate more
than I could possibly fill. the deeper hammerfall
and you’re locked in on opulence, the head you left
for filing never surfaces in this holding tank again.
I’m applying for the position, I can be edible.
touch it if it grabs you, I have catharsis gags to spare.
a trance in each exit, your plaque on every cough.
will I mount your video or you mine? I’m unqualified
to work with sound but I can make anything
unendurable, for whom?

out here beneath a criminal sun
beach become wisconsin I wisconsinite
astride a team of platelets bound for suspension
I feel like ike on the morning he stepped out
to discover lulu’s ass in his holster
felt the handsomeness of his own feng shui
with infected followers and tincture of horse
in a small leatherette rear echelon holder.
this broad sky of dune, lush center of functioning
and a beard to start an alibi
I look at it all objectively in retro
as a cabaret might it’s stapled hookers
the risk of a spontaneous cleft palate still there but
strictly in satirica

the delicate blending of underrating and motivation
dissolved in a stigma reduction
we know the piggybacks will continue
collapsing under structurally inferior poured cowboys
that to tweet is a sign of readiness
and any pizza, even this one you’re nearly through, is fixable
long as the aquiline beak, the brushy surround of the well,
the can-do of factory blood holds its value
there’s an elodea called OF THE
with no more to go on than to just go on singing
so mules packed and no territories to light out for the team
lights out. to a small flat patch where you’ve feet, on the spot
of your original eye trouble. If a guess is worth as much
put me down for hackmoth