an eightish feel I cling
to as a tribute a strafe

my property of cells
my “my” decharmed
as ever accordions in

the old edad de oro
trash in the wind

blood in the hopper

to say the gold milk
of eternity and the blue
milk of eternity are one
not even—rain? air?
air I guess hurts














everyone could touch the rope

the shirt too of youth in this lower sky
the false sirs ya está muerto
the weakness cooled

everything titted up—unrhymed

that was the onset of our adorable years

the earth loved us a little I remember”













I’ve said so cover’d and un
“the fruit is real”
the something as much

retain me

who is there
that I shake out a name

a system like the sun
is as arable

so I grow incurably so

entre amigos

woods? si, woods
spring the lock
in that I so nilled
like wilted mint
in public revived
I will











what waster of song
drones beyond light

beyond aerosol shadow

the breath I mean pacing in this helmet
the void of force stamped

the “howcanwelivewithout
theunknowninfrontofus” glance
buscando sombre

que malo
que chingo












lo único cosa que hago es esperar
the only pantomime es my focus
the only slangy thing to think of—
meme—no puedo pensar

life es a gang.
now get.

first the chariot then the race
first the chicken then the salad
so I realize I’m bleeding.

so much wilderkind insists—
sonido demasiado
then its opposite
itself in boring reform.

“I” sleep. I sleep. Delete.





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