(from:
the Los Lieder)
lunk object fine as missile to toe to frame heavy
darkened blue
as training when scissors cut spear, a mind fakery
lunge surcease in miniscule
it goes whap slumming in a Troad lifted off stones,
uttered in speaker cone
in merits then goes a quite yipping in a now
as loaded back of the truck in a seam going straight
thru to
where or how in time dial a sun that’s here meaning
then
in the numbered doc a finish like lacquer in solar
waves
absolute
the relativity sometimes asking about how
the wind xeroxes its contours
for you,
the con tourist
in line spacing a manage release point off to sweep
up loads of awards then
he tripped the words
get back at ya
flame situated in the bronze plaque on trophy
load to where maybe they call you a weed
more than a sensitive plant
pliant photos or rare synthesis in the post latin
world shot fling
bash to the recording heads it’s just what they
said in their constitution a mine under eyes are
glory
for a slightly artificial citizen
i’m thinking of calling it semi or
if you traipse from one end of the known world to
where
they got an unknown one don’t call me late for supper only
i am escaped to tell you, escape sucks
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