sailors/Apostles/and truck week

it's better to be bright  then rendered 

it seems

       a blue bank      grayed    rind in lemon fashion 

its' cat walk   magic     like the kind we grew up with   dizzy 

makes you rethink the kind we grew up with

  if sailor mammoths eat your delights               no questions to foam

          sailors

 and fawning is inherent

like a saviors tailor tailing         mouth closed 

     no surprise but what you design

the Apostle meant to scribe not interpret 

 

          a slave is made to deliver    

                      the devils name   his receiver 

mouth cocked  opening the floor named desire

         a lie is what the truth can not afford

and change         is taxes cutting prose

to process a safety                secured in cuffs 

   both links and the ones meant for hauling 

its truck week        and the keys are awaiting  contract

the color of your jacket

suppose
a passive deed surprise   outside
       the getting up is the hardest part

             a done deed    an exponetic  time piece
       clocked rankness    the money is coming in and there is nothing else
to fuck   collect and own

a wafered spectacle    ad/hoc   the nouns Will measured
  ledgers pulped and kissing

whatever can be kissed
       leave
the verbs to  transubstantiatic
dilettantes  fat and hungry       eating themselves
          eating the way they've been told
 
eating cross pence'd prodigy
                  because your In control

and the god of your mother has room
       as if the color of your jacket had sleeves    room enough to grow
yellow cleaves      obedient  in moon and dark side

unmoved   a passive deed overlooked


the land is where we live and the walking is how we get there
   forget your measures  

the old way need not apply

something boh

fight you    a winners circle       like rain checks in lampshade gratitudes
wearing main dog name badges      in   soup can sanctification    lip synced eulogistic mesentery
    a pulpit   in perpetuity    

   the pepper corns must be refilled

 shoulders squared in      inches of air    

       eyes wide blank what is next    
i just want                              want a whiskey and soda

the calf will mule the utter    when  shaking gaps   means butter

 


kill a need by killin that need           kneading purpose  its' strength
depends upon it. 

social relevant seas

living landward wonted  wonton trackless cracklets in a plastic bag
no rivered companion           read it longways
  hands spread     separated and busy

 you could have bought cleaning supplies when a knock on your door
springs son-belt singapore tides       drawing you to circles

                  giving everything when compelled
and     compilation

surprises  as social relevant seas   rise
   
         or more appropriately fall      a standard test
ranging

fair and balanced

the cosmos in 1's -n- 0's

i saw your green screened manifesto      of truth and experience     lend yourself to fancy and anything is possible     your truth  skirted icebergs /camera /action go go go   stand you        your worst stance  in   theory pixels   security's cleared    and pen (there wasn't one) dripping     pleated ink     plausible      you  laughing the hole time     because that's what i call it     theories digging holes   like the 80's    bright like Mercedes buttoning everything      explaining nothing     its useful too   when told or captioned           in production       explaining the cosmos    in 1's -n- 0's   greened            as if we needed another discovery where Everything         could         in theory    possibly    may   be known      or    get real     or    get the fuck out of town    your gut grows as you behave   addressing taped stances             dissvoweling flight                                so that i could discover what you almost know     could have known     as if the knowing was important

of californ

of californ   your nature is your virtue     your horizon is the sea

      feel your length and let it not be defined
                       here lies   a threshold   a suture and thread mid tangle

          a wordswoth sonnet iv of iii 

 beyond are words we have yet to speak


There    lays a fervent creature
     
        its essence disturbs  pythontically

              its belly in dark dirt-the skin of space
tongue eclipsed    seeking sense
            its Others        realistic      as it seems
neighbors
                     Black and White

the essence pocket beat            as it can be scene
        or rather read
in  sacrifice        hair tangles in depths unseen
 
          frightened by color in depth

  of ambisonic ambiguity     shoulders shrug   dissonance
a universal smokers cough


of  california red         of   calories lost     & of toads

of californ         the black not  black enough  

           limping on the same crutch its fingers are
that is to say peeled                    legless or otherwise impaired

the white  gated malibu  street envious in street
gated in temples       or templates              between temples impaired

                an other wisdom               gated

to be white

defense is nature when  arteries blank
     its essence unclear

there she showed me a blade of sound

    a lower blade,   as it seems,
cows grazing tersely    a brand wearing things without tags

         from dusk till dawn        a callus on the other side of fingernails

a blade Whitman would enjoy
of californ what is your purpose

        Its essence  a ladybug in my head all winter

eat your stake

we could be sitting in parks  wrestling
leave  pitch forks inside                   a pearling  closet
housed in its own wednesday

       left to the middle  Valencia
                     forgotten         left   amongst the liver and onions
if its the smell     we could lift the window

we could band     right handed words     left soaring   bouncing
empty hallway drum beat         bouncing celiphaholic pesticide

       casting eyes towards young boys            panting
justifying purity?          boasting bright red veins    eye mirrors

 as merry poppins  toting umbrellas

                         singing      the hills are alive with the sound of forgiveness
But  rather lay awake in Ginsbergs' splitended beardspread
             forgiving Alm                the way in which he breathed
                        Alm and the smell of the fatted calf melting
     its burning throat    as silent as    the rolled up tapestries

                      dusting, unseen in silver fed cloud strings
forgiving mercury    as Alm and Venetian silk      drapes of skin
    lost in the myth carrying the same name

eat your stake it's

their forgiveness      lend to          

a trollies bone yard  its there    
     
      or we could be sitting in parks
a breath lost             found in parks   their mills churning

       and be writers of words  sold in the good kind of secret