Poet X : a treatise re: verse(d)

essay 364 : a rash mode

here we are in the years,  or uh,  the letters

the stanzas

ashtrays down by the lake

is that inmate, or intimate?  the molecule used

for metalworking

slip at the side-stream

on waking,  it was midnight with a cool breeze

dawn’s beginning to shape up

in the     whap!

a fever times space as it rushes by

down in the

cold mine,  working with an unpicked ax

across the documents  there are

variations on

square blocks of words on fire

& that

constitutes reality ..  et set, … a    rah!

etude, slightly divided

ask           where ya growlin’?   over landscape

squoze inta cityscraping by,

always you take a wrong turn, or twist

at flash happen cross cultures it means

build another visage in the

back-down post-industries;    haggle rip

to seethe some i lands,

twin equivalents in a bush wild,

always i sez you start where they crunch down on

some golden rosy data,

shaped by    literal wording

wounding is

what that very large head

nods—

study 259

long gone like a turn/key thru the corn

or canopy    it wd. be the way

of literary     but then they

squeeze dead words thru their

as if sometime a broom   but not

opening a bottle of nuthinness     recorded

in a folio

i’d just talk to anybody

that way not an issue   agree

has to be       informed

maybe in a one slip       scaffolding

or scaffold

i’m able sometimes to discern

i’m me

glossy in the repeated

character    

massive open offline caricatures

mooc 1

cutting w lasers is net positive, a fling apes beam transfer data occlusion, man oh baby!  if ya sign up on line out to second, and flip a grating voice activated on the DL and sunk outside the DSL;  then all kinds of massive means you slip on by, making a hash out of the new morning anchor person,  raking lateness by current shining in a collapsing digger-slank star calculus;  just darpa in sometime, for a flinch, a waylaid bird descended from bronto-temp working just fine thanks you for yr crud-sourced input;  the way i sea it, brines the limit the open competition for ocean development crawls out of the ooze toward twittering idiot with O way 2 few characters & a broken wing

the same wavelength, or, low-flown rhetorics

[from:     the Loss Lieder]

color me as in leaden platinum  pretty soon they   the

i hear voices in my head will speak like a laff amputated above the

slow hiding form introspect now, the lack   they insist

it’s a verb a barn burning for the whole family of related

usages   on an island off the wrong shore      in a sequence

off the rung peninsula     nearby,

an odd flame like a clicking           introduce that gap

and pretty soon they’re naming a store after it

being here’s the same as unrealized

is absence is contained in money   or the screen canopy

that keeps flopping over

it says you have to be hidden behind closed

dares           w all the numbers counting our things mmm sold

like for missiles or plot summaries on that far

side     of a glass globe