closed book & monorail

1. pursuance unto hilarity

slugged by an invasion now i simmer

maybe, floats in a parade and down or ground

twofold redundancy: purpose of the pause

dustup! so i hid in a word or two, the pub crawled
got a knack to fine "not standing" and the audience flavored by riddle-palmetto-waiting-powder
fully aghast with a twin hammer
& plash bemuse! fuddie-duddie galumph so sprawl

crimp indicative i see this walled overhand close
a stumbling block & ain't i screeching

they wanted me tidy with bundle for a heart-
nope, quiet favor ambushly:
silk screen or slick screen

i'm here for your ambulance aggress file:
i'm going to escape over the berlin mall

urban sprawl fakes this wick with empathy
another mule burns down the ol' barn
yppieton this is or, the wave to a place where
anything goes    (. . . .cause nothin stayz

amble furnace

defector needs large cash to stump hunger

draft is the least of a poet playing close to the
edge with "trance panic":
gotta do more standup at these funerals
"letters of a voyeur"

obscuration is how i got fumble across as a place to live
penultimate penumbra         and i'm
almost finished painting over that dictionary

sirocco in my abandon        a harsh push
so i agreed i'd do a glossy feature with local color
can i get a little international bloodshed
in there
with my schweppes ad? i'll schweep you right off
your feet, OK so now it's mainly deferred income

no harm done in the B movie
--get yourself an eyeful

nestegg      (has circus timbre)
migratory autos

2. smite & trounce this parable, OK?

any way i try to hack it:
a cinder cast here

my mind bemused might've synthesized
something like this but
i've been trying to give up my mind
when the wind halts

catch as catch can
         hidden with a mattock
and so what with alien blood, a green thought
after all. . . .

it wasn't your relatives-
i have dozens of stories like this
that means when i remember primary school
a million restructurings take place
outside the plumbing
where the verbs trade shifts
driven by industrial steam
& vanguardist papers. . . .

put in the lawn and shrubbery      ask yourself
if the middle-class has emotional space
exemplar of kneading

selling the high-toned weeks for minutes at a time
         (where did
"room" go,  found out by rage
and al those good things?

bump and grind coming from the
overdetermined words
i'll try that department store
over there in the swamp

earth's crust is a raiment
that bedecks forgetting;
so i'm using all the possible jokes you know?

i've got
about a dozen lives to win-

the paranarrative manifest
and bill of lading

paranarrative,  moves thru time space
and also headspace

it has stories,  but doesn't believe them

in a crowded area,
paranarrative believes in itself

nobody else needs to believe in it (nor are they likely to)

lights have notions,
they are put out

the best stories to tell a reader(s), have the reader(s) as hero

the best stories to tell a reader(s), have the reader(s) as villain

a villain is a peasant, and sings villanelles

in postindustrial times,  the peasant is everybody

etude with references

a design of the present and minor westering
thorn-spelling                                            bizness insites
        black&whited demon

a hunter invented the uncanny

               maps showed the removals
the desire of       "racial"

imagining captive,       selfness

                    we've got a shaman,
waking up      right here

                           manliness      weaves
her savage dramatic

--if you can imagine,   then you can imagine back

white writing white collar a knot is invisible

a knife
a moustrap
a prelude
                     your soundings

a naturalist machine
bundles    these everyday glories---

tones get shattered into pictoral
     hide     hide the

                      incessant experiments
in shifting the breath    in
shifting the realisms

       the exile relaxes at home
       half disarmed
       her heart turns over
       --there's no sleeping here

make fun of calorific

if i to slog

        the brainchild of
                         sunk in the
slip stream voices
knack to go
they sigh with
a dead brain stress
in the end-note
crumple is to say that one
i regard
           here take a look at the dossier
not a reality only
                blank focus with
knot end
     narrativize and
self-automaton nonrelease screech
scrutinize only this one
     burnt end

the movie slickers in
        a cauldron trepidation
and like that
i amount to
   "bilk"    at the crowd end
           Uncle Jet Sam
swoopin' in on ya

ain't that a cover--
under    shadow
                         to train for unfeeling
    or a dud     to the school
yatter        unblinkered
uncalled-for      .......      the manner of falling

            blotch         manners right with here
         flecks  of the sub-
left on whose hands
                      what is this
world      comin to---

i'd say,    utmost
        odd job for a swirl with gashes
but somebody has to brew it
           ponder  these samsonite columns
on my mart-

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