twelves are like a spring in the near then fore time goes as a bowing that moves blat slit singular enable over to the save these few ungracious intensities twelves mass until bend the beat forwards and around zero on where as fire punches twelve is multiplication tabled anything goin’ on with you? time on the dot is an uncalm flying to future, stupidity crashes in on daylight:  blast the long song toward tundra so i can get started on my next project no one pays attention to the signifier until hide away from the hot wire across dubious verbs watches from all sides like a knife-blade reflection, but anyway believing in this moment is alpha to 12 dimensional waking twelve is buried in data like days of X-mass hidden in dark matter or stark stutter at the beginning of twelve lashing into the lines cross to counter the point all thru the rush of wind go letters:  when you hear sentences flashing by and the stoke slams, on the next page is the world speaking in rime which is a fine dusting of frost, his house is in the village tho and twelve times twelve managed a 3rd twelve toward colder ambiance

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