[from: The Loss Lieder]
always to be
in practice is a very the mild line a-hangin by a
thread of
gradual or plodding pace makes it one concert
fingering
technique across bardic mulberry stretched thin
over a
neighborhood fluffed up w superior horsepower
pulling oh my
gosh line rank at still forum as a mote real
slay morning
time swirl dust motion detectors
wired thing
is, a mind at play famed at the low heat
out of the
frying panopticon and into the line of fire retardant
asbetoid form
a song with a line in quiet run over there
you point
cross ref signals all quaint hamper the villain
till class
distinctions are black cat jump off a wobbly
pedestal
shriek make fan glower canned at a site of invention
multi-warhead
re-entry history a scrunched vehicle for your
manny-wood
career into a concrete abutment almost ands and
ifs the
everyday uncanny being uncanny long rows of
hidden drug
sessions rush a snail version long insistence
they say
unpaid stuff written like a bowtied weevil
next time ya
looked in the crushing dark of postmodern
play, he had
his whole family there, the site of the blues
is a
sixteenth-century mind game keep on pointin’ out
irritations
of the wild fling forever absolute interchange
at the
downtown photo shop laws raked by a turbo-jokester
purchases of
verbal construct unbased but not unbiased
if i refer to
that there as an audience, mind wanders flow-
chert found
dirt archeo-mindset realizes
a signifier
gets rigged up only past morning stall data
but the
acrobat better not get strangled
by the sig
dot net quote calm alt
nified
or
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