I read your letter. christ keeps me breathing hell cracks itself open for me and a few borrowed drinks later maniacs are made eternal gutted and skinned with love and left. This is nonsense.
"We don't die."
the youth generation’s lasting appeal smooth as sheared ratskin on a young rat’s ass sitting on hilltops watching battles in valleys below clinking cups and golf clubs some usedtobes with passports jumping into moving vehicles before they die; not suffering car accidents from an armchair artists sketching faster for the fear of being seen taking some hundred photographs ...
bottlecan crooked angel
the promise land is a street curb a dying man’s twenty fifth last heartbeat the mecca is an overpass out first centering a cocktail party on one crawler vine covered window frame contending the link between the two with weakening bursts of fire from blackened ancient volcanoes once smalled now lost within offerings of territorial privileges confirming twenty five years an index of...
centering a cocktail party on one crawler, vine covered window frame contending the link between the two weakening bursts of fire from blackened volcanos once smalled now lost with ability offered territorial privileges confirming twenty five years an index of pins kept alive writing endlessly on being found
at twenty five
God speaks in fevers at night feeding distinctions to the lasting sons and daughters the killed off cast of acktors leaving two orbiting storytellers the librarian, the composer not to speak of the chorus the playwright, the audience pacing from within and around at the hands, the vagary of measuring time in months or an exhausted generation stillreading scenes of heaven changing...
a man at twenty five (scraps)
at the hands, the vagary of measuring time in months or an exhausted generation stillreading scenes heavens changing with a shift in perspective floating ponds lost in some template (of an easy-access temple) if you stare long enough into overcast cloudcover you will find the copyright symbol (and a subsequent, however witless, date) tonight: scan the skyline for blackouts this storm won’t...
off as if
it is neither pride nor dignity it is forgetfulness that loses me within the synthetic atmosphere of any room I construct regardless of my exacted craftsmanship or my obsessive cleaning and maintenance staring from the window to the outside scene from the window to the next act I won’t grow out of heartache ( back and forth ) I’ll grow out of the initial kneejerk...
as if (scraps)
you don’t grow out of that heartache back and forth you grow out of the initial kneejerk reaction (but maybe that’s just syntax and semantics) as if you ever found it too difficult to be happy (as if or not) sitting long across yourself the latest birth’s revival by slurred skin as the spoils of your own consciousness are the uncanny parallel to a drunk’s shuffle like every...
to a new system.
the process: name and define all objects within the local solar system. if all present members can be justified and accounted for, apply the same categorization to your local neighborhood. if not, you should move
the damned sight of an extra left ordinary always careful to confess in another some strong million passing time passing a runaway sitting quiet bait for prowling monsters quieter now on the no one scene of a running bus nearer now to eve she will provide sudden spasms of understanding and a certain romantic fatalism she will surprise but she won’t impress she will hang on to nothing ...
meant not (scraps)
a damned sight an extra left ordinary always careful to confess in another some strong million passing time passing itself toasting the runaways sitting quiet bait for prowling monsters smiling swaggering thieves