Everyone spit on it. Did it in Switzerland, Did it suspended upside-down. Leaned over The difference between leaning and falling Wondering where the conversation went. It was like keeping the baby alive, Like a balloon smooshed by tiny wires. I hated all of those clouds. Told less, Furthermore, less, less, less, less, less. Couldn’t go back and forth. “Less, less” Intolerable. Had to go forward like Dramatics. Did. Stop thinking. Unitard or Saber. Just send in. Either way works Didn’t come out of nowhere anywhere That January. Blotting out the stars Was only compositional. Leaning left There they are. You crack any door Into any bureaucracy. It’s the gym. These bands are not for balls Are correspondences. More invisible Executives with pendulum stresses Not less. Not its diminishment with The talking disease. Did click. Inspect Click, tock, tick. Essentially atomic clock Scheduled like an ass. You had minutes To copulate. Then waved the flag of no Surrender. And the train cooed far off Into the farther. It looked like a face with A little mouth face. There was a woman Crooning on a piano with a daiquiri. Did it trying it. The comb, the principle Of pick-nose. But sadly the devil children Teethe and cry, not like a pack of dogs. The only other approach is laying mines Under the asphalt, like the cadaver Of Judge Crater. No one has seen him In a million years. It’s like the fake magic Better than the real magic. Surprised Disappointed. Eyes closed behind eyeglasses. That’s what they do with demons! It’s so intellectual being a hunter and gatherer. It doesn’t change, it only becomes more so. The grim get down low. Everyone survives. You can see it in the contemporary songs. Like a wolf bite backwards. This body Bends. Don’t hum swing low. Hut hut hut Because no apology suffices for annoyance. Ask the journalists why. Stick to safety Under house arrest. Concrete footprints Offending the palms in cement made Immortal. It’s nicer in stone than wood With these little tell-tales such as killing The dinosaurs. I get greedy, I do yoga, I change my face like a film noir. I am an accursed pig pot porker But I want to be so goodly. It’s desire. There’s so little beauty on the table. Apply paint chip to chapped skin sample, Nipple, genital, and inner upper lip. There are varieties even on the person Considering heroes. Matters quickly. They carry you away briefly and you tell, You have the kids you were given. Those with dependents don’t have to enlist Decent Garibaldies say. Forget, forget. The craziness is over because it failed. The mesmerized inventor balked and Goes to pieces. It’s so totally comical The gap will recall. You literally can’t Go to Japan. The girl has contacts and Parts. She didn’t write a word about you Illustrated. It’s rude as moles and freckles. Try escaping from that prison. The plan Is extra roads. Connect the dots did But did it yesteryear. That’s the problem With already. Hopped the equipment. Formed a party. Did it over the Alps Into Italy or Germany or France. You have to trust the leader or the unions. It’s good graft. It’s the Buddhists Sweeping the stones. Comes with apology Like life in hotels. You leave a mark By getting there eventually with car voice Declaring velocity. Words for writing Versus words for speaking aloud. The idea is that dogma tells you Where it’s going to snow and rain. Batters the ball and chain for explanations. But the quadrants are dysfunctional. Not even Cartesian cat can help you, Cobblestone. Moon pie, mud pie, Eskimo pie. It has to be recent or ugly. It’s the shortcut in the graveyard But you don’t want the resurrection. There are bound to be casualties Like the shushed babe come wending Its way my way, like on slick surfaces The storm hasn’t yet rained on. That’s the miracle of confusion. Wheels love the negotiation. Limo, Moped, sandal. The inevitable Is not a transformation. Trail of Tears torn pages. I menace lately More than before, riding with news. Wrecking ball mimeographs a room With nothing in it but secretaries And spies on the walls. Poke The clock. It leaves so much dripping. It’s a lot of crazy fun enjoying the phones And their messages. There is a banister And yet it’s almost also Belgian. You have to go through crappiness To get to capital city. Folk peels off. The goo’s not glue. It’s like stabbing Your own dinner. Hunk of conviction The epitome of cornucopia. That was meant to be a joke. You can mess it up with nationals. For rubes and cuckolds, rubies and Emeralds. Look it up and it looks The same as a mess when it’s clean Is a fortification. Hill town batteries Foreshortened by perspective. Spikes Wear helmets, bang on a drum. Load every rift with more schist. If you’ve learned your lesson Look scared, it makes them less so, Less valuable values. Loving strangers There’s a price on that country of women. They only came looking for help, For a place to crash with no one in it. Do you know the story? I’m not going To put it where it goes. Did no fever Follow exposure. Freeze a cold. I’m scared and I can’t do a thing. That’s the place that isn’t foggy. It’s theatrical only in its origins. Frayed around the puncture holes Slathered bad red. There’s no color For friendship as a residue. The soft skin. Indecision. After that Everyone’s going to have to get used To the new situation. I don’t have Thoughts. I only have words.