Saturday, December 31, 2016

Republicarchy

Something stops the rain, the train itself. Latter Day Sentences speak, canting right or left. Fundament pool in the middle of nothing. Sentence time reflects noun in passage. Exact word a dream. Next word brings next word, repeat. Doable framework of persistence against which undoable framework of persistence. Full version versus less full version. Ability to react to ability to react. Next time, first time. The last work comes again. Everyone said so, and so it was.

Monday, December 26, 2016

Man Drives Vehicle

Purple in the nation term, rain evens out, to find lost wooden leg. Rock from somewhere forgets point.

Point showed where low town left to lie. We have ours in ours in all hours ours. It becomes the town as the town becomes the way. Kids got nothing finer than reproach.

Here again. Heathen seeks a prose style. Dance a possible arrangement in figures of elevation. These seasons of all that the finest in little word, a child of thinking what the world. Even world as a cage or a triumph sits and lets the heavy on. There is no—

All meaning in the low town left to lie. We have ours in ours in all house ours. It becomes the town as the town got nothing finer here again. Heathen seeks a prose style. Dance a possible arrangement in figures of elevation,

these seasons of all that
!!br0ken!!

Sunday, December 18, 2016

52%of Republicans Actually Think

Epilogue: we’re not in the same town. (populace weight)

Preface, what’s to be done? (calamity morsel)

Chapter, kids do darn things in sight of adult experts. (optimal energy)

Section, who is this one here, remains. (clean up work)

Critique, what are the oranges doing in the apple bowl? (breathless exercise)

Squiny Populace

A savory meme-chose of umbilical receiverships. Lucid plainsong by river edge or more space. Words are limited to the religion they speak. Ensemble palimpsest vertical tic,

Given the fresh.

Trump Told Them to Keep It

Words carried over to the next sentence, in terms of first sentence, but impeded by following words. To the extent, says the finite snow one day. The president’s Twitter account as been hacked and the berries of wisdom scattered. No one knows a period, only commas,

Sunday, December 11, 2016

Snow at Christmas

Perfect town,
your heroes call the
animals. Pass
the colour
bridge, finality
ring.

The verse of
sky contains
an age of
winding still.
Peace on,
Earth.

New river
in the trying
times. We haven’t the
language to
prove anything.

Saturday, December 10, 2016

Navajo Creation Story in Pictures

Hello Emily Dickinson, The tire iron spoke like the wheel it meant to remove. You have a way with language, going back to words and how they are words, most of the time. They are not tried and in control, they are spurs off the broken, lately, seems like, tracking westward with a rush. The tire speaks of wounded roads, people who are people in roads, and sometimes. The tire iron works in the background as the foreground. Emily, we get it. Our president select is a safe house for transportation models that encumber the old gravity. New gravity, the boundless fields of exploitable gone, redeems in fervid fashion. Assonance assists, like any sound in the dark or light. The situation turns into a situation, some place looks okay for now. We have waited for the least word, and got it. Emily, two butterflies disappeared.

Sunday, December 4, 2016

Maybe Donald's Sad Inside

The class inside the moral rage up on mountaintop sounding. Liquid with the verb sounds, all sent by groggy nouns. Message in the falling.

Which exact state refuses that animal? The drum inside the drum, the tower in the power. All is replaced by scansion as we repeat the funny look at something else. Touchy sentences once again. Separate but equal, mineral content intact.

Taiwan Was Just a Phone Call

Can this be the way of write? The simple clerical township formulates sentences and diversions. A pasture and trees resign. We are celebrating but quiet on the sunning day. Pavarotti wears a moment. We are, instead.

This is Bearable Quonset Hut

feature demos. poll taxed by
breaking. music falls between
non-music. sedentary
opinion lops
option. words
as fellows, distractable.

Sunday, November 27, 2016

Crustacean Revelation

Plainly edit last dust. Last dust
microbe. Last dust feel
okay, lose something.
Last dust thought
about. Last dust meet
the meaning. Last dust
picture time. Time fall
fill last last. Last dust intricate,
polar, finial, plastic, pouring, fervid,
bland pop mentor. Last dust equal
time. Time manages anger
feel like you. You the
plainly last dust. I am you you
know.

Outside Interference

Start with exception
wording, earliest a solar level
hooked? We
had Mprphotrustmorphotrustmorphotrudt. Hello
I'm being delivered.

One Castro Gone

The last time poem
large reference pattern
exception. Plan automatic
Meat. Late fraction like
any sentence. Doctors called
Donald trump.

Thursday, November 24, 2016

Thanks

The simple flag stands
next to the less simple
flag. All flags are
difficult, they
are simple. Simple is
the lap of luxury.

Monday, November 14, 2016

Dark Pants Mean Dark Times

You have to be period the light period in your own sentence
period.

Sunday, November 13, 2016

After Shocking the Saints

The tribal long grasses of firm autumn pre-describe an initial point. Valid in most states, formless in function, they prepare the user for the diversity of offense. Winter bears no questions, violet iceberg. Today starts the endless aptitude test with variant rugs on the cursive floor. This is becoming language, tho we regard ourselves as sane. Accept the natural loss of poised sentences, words can’t employ meaning in this need. Words have only dental notes of identity, cooperating justly with the affluently dead ideas on which they were based. We can elect all we want. A tribe still needs a blank page whereby actual constructs of logical impetus tell lizard the time of day. This time of day is lame.

Oprah or Tom Hanks

Deleted particles still sort.

The latent immersion in the effort to consort lives fully rendered.

Someone made a sentence.

These days and what we relieve in worth find strong notes of distraction in blending in.

Brief in.

We believe in the people that we believe in people.

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

After Overnight Sell-Off

Any day a cat or a library or something incendiary. Everyday like a leaf losing chlorophyll for the moment of winter. Everyday as ribbons of clouds settle vast questions under the possible theory of sky. Everyday like warm rain on the exact moment of finally. The earth accepts words tho not made of them. People accept earth tho not made of it. Stars plink tiny lutes just for the sake of metaphors and trees. Nothing settles anything. Winter has a reply, rain is a consequence of no rain. Time feeds the place where we said something else. We can say something again, rose and rise.

Sunday, October 16, 2016

This is About Last Friday

The gods move from green to red to unred. That moon last night meant something We waited as gods were distinct, apparent, and worth there. Words happened then, left over there. Yellow leaves and red ones left fall. Fall left the angry Friday. Only in the graph becomes the next sentence. Rigged moon map, pack ice as angry machine. The angry framework plus loss living here entitled reveals the basic need squirm melting pack ice. Soon the open winter door.

Explain everything backwards now, so anyone can see. Your autism map needs sharing, Donald.

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Had a Bad Conference Call

The explain deep shill off present mountain time,
off the coastal presence of listen gravity.

Sometimes in the spelling of lesser words a secret pavement stern for you.
Angry doctoring of last night’s morning, spoonfed after memory losing.

Let her go we say after time. but time remains before us. Let him go, in that naked thing of all, but time remains before us.

Time lives like words only words need time. What time is the last word, only fitting news. Poetry pieces, together. Donald Trump tried to call.

Monday, October 10, 2016

Exploding Galaxy Note 7

The colour red sent money, leave it at that. Sky autumn full of blue that will be remembered as one day after a word. Make that wiord again.

The colour red made money, bits of earth brown and something well you just know.

Green stacked high even as leaves fell to the tune of rain. On yesterday, that is, when rain will be rain.

Today is now sun, the fat part of our thinking. Thin night thinks, but we are too thin then.

The colour blue made a ramp into the air, on which many followed for something. These are days and some nights, and all together we need station.

Look how words have spread across the field. We aren’t tractors any more, just pieces of distracted thought.

Yellow sun sleeps with a mouse. Orange enjoys the daze. It says here, yesterday we will give each other a chance. That doesn’t mean standing there with your mouth, your shadowed mouth. Today is the tender time of day. Try to make something.

Sunday, October 9, 2016

And Then We See Video

The town is perfect, it climbs in rate of exchange. It has a city in its dreams, dreams of city seeing. Seeing multitude as a tone, and vision as a plaint, the town is tons by standards.

We are the people pieces of the town that settle to the city, vision as a plaint. The workers, the sleepers, the people fill the streets. Each word they say fills the words they didn’t say.

We arrive in plenty looking at the streets. Our plenty fills the streets, filling city with the town. We step our words closer or far, for reasons of the sun.

The city is a perfect climb, perfect plaint, perfect look how we can climb. The town is only people only stopping some, only eating some, only talking some, but city in the day.

Not Donald, dear ones, improbable and zilch. Not that faction filling rivers darkly. Not that lone and speaking vice of secular remaining but what about when we just put hands together? What is a river saying now that it hasn’t said before? Only rivers talk, people can’t begin

Donald Trump Just Retweeted

The adjective came the mouth passing shifting to the all, adjectives were the crisis. They tell the range and colour, weight and hate that measure. It makes him him and him. That way the adjective that doesn’t do. It is the sentence before it can say. It is a sentence of surface tension lying.

Let us think again. Adopt a business plan beyond business. Let actual colour mean light not response. The picture means the picture, not the left toe marching to the right.


We heard enough last night the day before. He has hit on something flat and seeming, just the angry nature feeling way. Excuse the sentence for being said. We were here tomorrow.

How he rose is partly sentence, partly rain could make things better. Colour goes deeper than just that naming. Colour colours light.

Saturday, October 8, 2016

Lena Dunham is Worried, Donald Trump in Heaven

Too much light or heavily in the realm of sentence.

Position closes with facts or data,
or an emotion nodule. Words work, there.

The force is farce as we remind ourselves,
our chemical includes something.

Each word on the merrie day rides something thunder.
or perhaps the sentence after the sentence.

Writing is the time between the people that are the time,
except people don’t exist.

Only the stable idea that stable ideas exist keep the inferences in line.

Saturday, October 1, 2016

My Role in the Universe

The practice, the rations, the ratios, until the greyest of streaming clouds purport, yes, purport some preying thought, forest powers, alluvial light. Namesake intends the exceptions. Simple stars alert colours. We have this way together, all of us, and the simplicity of saying words. We have words for a reason. We have reason for a word.
In the least green of difference, as time takes and music holds, no colour more than any other.

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Fact-Check Each Other

Today in the tremendous town. Today in the bleak past participle. Today the final what are your shoes doing? Today the friend of the friend spoke wisdom. Today honest parking in consequential spaces. Today the dotage of town.

Tomorrow the moon struck a pattern of sorrow, month after moon month dialogue. Tomorrow we hold the day back. Tomorrow we saw the ease of sliding past. Tomorrow we were only there today.

Yesterday the television smile contest. Yesterday while winking. Yesterday the spelling will be better. Yesterday those onions of reproach will satisfy a presidency. Yesterday feels townships rights.

Any day gathers the any town of what we were to have to need to want to bring to the seeing of our life. Tractors provide tractors.

The map reads racist pauper, dig language, aptitude pause. We are only one, step at a time.

All Those Options

Sky, with versions of coloured animals, bright sunshine elbow room.

A place inside that name for doubt, perpendicular to the advice of strangers.

Catalogue of catastrophes, with slung motivations adding television.

Perfection of pizza in the blood while lasting for the end.

Exact retirement plan in plain racist terms.

Clerk function in just voting for topic sentence.

Dialogue with out-of-date.

Turning to football’s majesty.

Torquing for the vast function inside the little desire.

Someone’s yelling, again: tone poems can’t function.

Donald Trump During Desire


The sight of the star was the site of the star. We aren’t children. The sight was the star’s light. Literally is how words fail. There is no light. There is lightness.

Today is left. Present indicative of be is left. Audiences paid to see a big screen. It tells the story of a movie.

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Do Some Things in the Community

The children as people,
as possible in the ranks,
as the verb to lord closes a condition,
as tornado in the mouth of many,
as plainsong long ago,
as rhythm based on rhythm,
as fortunate enclosures,
as land mine destinies,
as open soreness,
as seeming thru the peerage,
as poking all the wound,
as time spent over anxious,
as boon and bust magma,

children,

the town, the
way they talk that is almost
our talk, as we feel
our completion (in the throne room
and deli), potent sensible except
children, not the
full town, only the edge
of town, these children who can
listen not exactly
speak, not the trump of
winning but the
quietly there, here
is there for
children, when
remember, the
door.

Door completes the
picture. We open doors
to close.

Gary From Accounting

Opiates are great, we live on their steps. We look back on their day, the waving light beams beaming our way. Our way is a right way, with gloss on certain words. A sentence begins this way:

Terrific towns of land, the verb to go, the land mines of nouns called people, sweat logs and purple sage, the gasping aspiration left on doorstep by the dinner bell, periods of empathy marked by patterns of neglect, pious organdy stasis, feldmarschal feelers, lateral train, town lines and more towns, the factions that said faction first, and voter registration.

Meanwhile,
a lasting impression, discussion of doubts, something in the middle pushed to the side, flecks of apple leaf in the organic autumn wind, a sort of drought like the death of some strange empty void without victims.

3-Story Beer Bong (Light Reading)

In the time of orange, children sported with place. The cool integers, the fighting pronouns, stood for change. Change came coloured. A tree born of new times let loose a leaf of lettered green. Blue union excused a city, a red union blew smoke. Tied in the tracks of varying colours, the children seemed to settle. Warring parties explained differences, inventing new ones in logic cycles. Some children were just hungry and it wasn’t a story.

Later, fully lettered in outside words, the nation sensed the city soul, pitied nothing and moved on. That colour was read by many.

Sunday, September 4, 2016

Mother Theresa Is Made

with windows of clean power, gruff brown bark on the sedentary trees, a vocal majority without words (not real ones), with sentence structure amassed in piles by lawns of water or dirt, the central pictures of an anxious squirrel with prime sense of mortgage, and the clear meaning of green leaves at their timetable—the sky is blue like under advisement!—meanwhile, an unarmed teen, massive rally (amazing people), the words under the words aren’t really words, not words like that...

Donald Trump Visits Ben Carson's Childhood

The airplane will be moved from the river at a later date

Friday, September 2, 2016

Plastic Clothing Inspired by Kitchens, Trump Hires Citizens

It might be the same electric or a new plan. A town of nations cooling before the sun. So risen green calls of how trees thru most of the year, without so many words or real fingers.

So many words accept a pond and the slow decay. The townspeople feel like towns out of mind. Little waste remains, only the factual noises expressed as sentiment. The way we read our books.

Bluest into autumn, which realizes the expression of sky for the little town. Doted in the future is when we were young. You can’t expect real politics, not in this time allotted.

The town of nations relays the guilt, which is a satisfaction thru days and doors. The dour folk get angry like people, like only people, lowland and the sight of a bridge.

Sunday, August 28, 2016

The Privatization of Land Mass

among the rich, whole human function, the vetting of rascal nature. Colander train the imagination, arriving port blank. Exit hole and the relief of naming. We are timed throwbacks, caused in effect. Liberal use of conservative was. Back to nature.

Nature by product under pretense of we had words. You need fewer people. People need fewer.


Alight.

What We Know Sunday Morning

the past particle in the ring of ever the world knowing time spent in a sky waiting

knowing trees at the pace of raindrops wind

finding the easy elope with sky portion

event saturated with word

product sunset in a pass knowing

alert along a trade rout

dawn after down

Spend a Minute

Wards and junior minutes, in a place of expanse and nightly. Watch the radiant as it tells. The sky, of course, and all the natural nature combusting loom with creature if not comfort. And still great clouds of wonder, thank and be. Theoretical delight or possible planet of gaining just an idea takes light. Evening shrinks and lets us know. We are together together.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

Tewksbury Man Spreads Word on Hand Bells

Solving equilibrium with a closed fist or
sudden panic in the middle
of a sentence. Sentence structure requires
verbs and point of view. You make trees, then
pass them over
the landscape. Your clouds are
all clouds. You thought you knew anger
but then anger knew you. You have a
hard time in the easy
time, and it’s the patch
where we live (comma)
together. You vote for towns called
all any what. You can aim your
perception. The wash of future
seems sweetened with this
little. It is time to
tell. You are once rocket twice
explain. You could be president
of telltale, tho oily
and asking. It’s alright to ask
if you try. You started with words
which makes you us. Stop
wiggling. Sentence structure
could be your friend
if you looked underneath that
veritable rock. A rock is an
idea ready for township. You don’t
want to be Donald Trump, you
just have a case.

Friday, August 12, 2016

Eleven Bombs in One Day

Sometimes, words
in a stadium. Sometimes
left wants right
in a pressure
situation. You
poets know what I
mean. A piano ascends
the gracious leavening of human
oh
what the fuck. A guitar can do the
same smart-alecky. Which town
do you wonder? Ambient flakes
of creativity flutter
like impulsive dynamo abreast
human level. Explain
Donald Trump, plain
vireo. You are
virginal, with conceit. You
have seen nothing
virtuously. Donald Trump
arouses the
sentient stone. The stone says,
“Stone”, “a” Mutter
makes cream
of wheat
like
a livelier nation.

How to Prevent British Schoolgirls / Donald Trump Tries to Walk

Listen to silver or something molten in the clouds. Direct heat wins minutes, you are able. We haven’t left this minute yet, but plans and slight conjunction thing. The best thing of people, really, and you spin.

We have this climate, and it’s in time. It reels further letters, from a batch, a field, a lot of other time. It doesn’t matter if you say you say. Today’s a branch of glass.

Donald Trump invented pantsuits smiled and carking, why for sluggards. Sorts of bread and teasing dishes serve with prone. Alive the crop of hairy endive, the Donald Trump as pointed time.

Monday, August 8, 2016

We Are Glad You Are Enjoying Advertising

above a river
of Republican armies
culled Democrats, above trees known
for deem
imprecisely, above gull
known as water,
safety known as
cloud, path known as
sad, then watch, of loose
and stunted
language, you, you
have been a lax
farm, like me, like the period
between geese, like the
egret as a time, like saying
each poem concludes
a community, but then reading
goes straw, and maybe
maybe reeds drinking
smelly water, listen, free
verse, Donald
tromp

Monday, July 25, 2016

Maybe the Only One Left

The bass player in the middle of direction. Time passed filing date, a logic sent from when words were. It isn’t easy. A sentence has flowers for approval, late in the rhythm of only a poem. You want the people whole. Whole is the heaven of inside. Words as a direct sort of godthing, laden not prepared. We aren’t the nation of knowing, now or today or the last thing left. We have to tax and look around corners. Well. This plain where the dogs and cats adjust to no dogs and cats. Specious remark left for the space between us. Donald all trump, you are the gorgeous loss lit finding not a pasture fit for approval. The sun was blue.

Debbie Wasserman Won't Gavel

because abbreviations realize after all, and the token within the mere asking constitutes an emotional response, and death is a nightly thing, and verbs seem preposterous when placed near nouns, and the fact is, and the day seems lovely for the grey clouds not against them, and the heat wave allows electric, and anyone can surmise, and Donald has a friend over there, and then we watch a plum.

Sunday, July 10, 2016

She Opened the Facebook App

Ignite was a language when we, trees. The time in the way of being in the time near time when we could be, that was nearly timeless. We could say anything and a crowd or almost and some agreed, we were for fighting or fitting. Each word remained in the time or until. We sent messages or reminded ourselves that messages were peering. And the days of delivery, those august days that were or were not really, over the coastal plains and into the fat bring landscape, we heard mountains once. We had time for nothing but nothing had time for us. So the language, in conspiring sentence of logic, albeit logic grew that moist and flowing, like something meaning nothing more. Later anger became present anger, yesterday’s sad brush painted something today. No guns were reported to have spoken. We didn’t have time, much as time liked us.

Friday, July 8, 2016

Post to Facebook

The rigid insane mean something. Dumps sweep cantons. Language has no possible sky in the mean mental man of woman, woman of man.

A sentence prolongs the state. We are eerie. Remember the back of the room? The course extends thru tidal indifference. Deep space—we talk about it—is a question.

Language is the closest to almost anything. Remember how a leg feels. The dead seem superfluous, but that cannot hold space. Space needs plenty. My aide-de-camp did fall.

Sunday, July 3, 2016

A Crowded Chicken Wing Festival

likely how heaven, with names attached, a quotient for human, and it is july, proud to be, like a laser wants more, like a taser says more, apparent lily in a fairly certain field.

once a poem in a dream, albeit language goes for waves, in approximate reunion, circles called antelopes, currently, they were playing.

the animal of hunger exercises flashes and conveyance, long language and about time forget about after time.

american like factory for data, it’s a strange courage / you give me...

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Ever Call an Asshole?

Embargo on careless town. The talking thing inside us. The piece that says the anger made me.

Modern moonlight set for drought. Easy crack in earth crust. A poor town after all.

The sun has been accomplished. Words are a means of breath. Life lasts until the next.

I See You Got Your Fist Out

The popular trucks
in branch identified
as fierce, the
conflict called. And so, so
biblical as to equate,
but the bush burns merrily. As
merrily burns, so the words
inside. This is prophecy
on the ranch, and no more proven
than the tongue of Trump.
The class of happy wishes
falls a little fall. The people are
spokes in a lopsided wheel. The contest
comes in colours. Colour
is a piece
of light while light
is a piece of us.

Finely Cried The Morning

it is day time
like for trees
or an ocean known
for bees

it is a place name
borne by winds or turtles

quickened coyote
on the top of a small
night

sword dance woke
the baby trees the reason
trees the after trees and all
before

song came before
the clatter

lacking grace
is a human thing
in cities called

Sunday, May 1, 2016

Wkat Are Golfers Talking About?

Look who’s standing up! Kylie Jenner gives a tattoo.

"Your Hair Looks 10x Better"

People walking streets
talking. Walking in the
means of
slight overcast, degrees
of feeling, Sunday.
Memory
is imaginative.

Josh has captured the Duchess. Peggy and Bucky are the last vestiges. The Human beings are talking.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Dear Dairy

Ever since the trees,
fabulous. Quite blue to
begin, yet the
status of just
standing remains
a plan for voices
and the green.


Ever since words,
especially,
while we look.


The nature of tumbling
during exact change
registers more than
sound. The desert fills
with sensuous
sand. Apple watches
could get zippier.

Monday, April 18, 2016

Unswerving Advocate of The

but I still think it was contributed to Ringo, the idea in a town with a present such as this. At most a haystack in le Trésor de la langue française contributes to the village take.

Proud string instruments alert hillsides even as rocks fall from space. Thus a construction of sentences occur, from some here (imagined) to some there, derived. Picture this!

We congrue with the revelation that we share. In minutes of confused rebuff laden sentences sense a means. It is only the together that we can share, as a purpose of perfect light.

Sunday, April 17, 2016

Before That You Heard

The navaho
creation story
at that.
Selected writings
if opportunity doesn’t
knock.

Restless

the word, a plain
thing, capable
farm

rented a former home
of bing crosby

now they say something
about how racist
obama is

he’s the hitler we
had to know
like a chord or envelope
for something else

they aren’t even
an arab town
or still night
let alone
led zeppelin

they write
of things
when things don’t exist

time is generous
that way

frank o;hara prompted
a return to
another date
in time

the sun shines
as well

the well is deep
deep as supplying
a word for deep

the renaissance ended
some days
ago

remaining days
are post
renaissance

dr sadhu’s muffins
with one sky above us

Sunday, April 10, 2016

Waiting for More

He
became engaged
to model blogger
heiress and actress Lydia
Hearst on September 12 2015

You Should Take Photos of Whatever You Want

In the sense of the last words, backing away. In the sense of the stream, warmer. In the sense of the balloon, fragment. In the sense of the town.

The place is central to an idea. The idea lends a map. A position based on word continues by simple process. A painting of a town.

Actually a bicycle never gave out, the person of the town did. Finally the picture cleared, speech became language. No one wished to leave the town.

Faced with the basis of a simple blue sky, some word lent a little. No one knows when to stop, but they always do. The town means people but do the people mean town? Politics is politics. It was great seeing you all!

Sunday, April 3, 2016

Jeff Bezos' Rocket

calls for help, the long rock road
back. Afterward
think of the blue colour that makes
sky perhaps https://www.youtube.com/watch?
v=76yWZcsgwF8fectm\
with a known
rock. Whistling in the dark. A
known rock settling earth problems. The
blue colour of the
known rock’s sky. Clouds
make part of blue and
the known rock takes
a stand.

Same Day

Relentless deceleration, bondholder, bondholder

clerical impression, muttered motor response

half of every word breaks free

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Advice

Write as if the world were a green speck.
Write into the wind.
Write atop a quiet thing that has no name.
Write thru the trees.
Write in time but not too far.
Write with only some words, not all.
Write the cool divot on the dear ground.
Write in space if space is present.
Write for any hour of any day, for minutes at a time.
Write only those words.
Write as if you are here.
Take time but write anyway.

Monday, March 21, 2016

Sample Poem

The latest colouring and the day begins. Shrouds of perplexed words, used in rightness, fall smoothly thru the air. Assumptions lead to dawn.

Exceptional words don't know person. As person saying person, leave room now.

Poem is a trait, not a vent.

Quester fuddles in reach of “right word”.

Your word for ocean is still ocean.

To clarify, you aren't there. I am not I, We aren't tall together.

Sunday, March 13, 2016

In the Place of Ann Coulter

Jurisdiction is a rigid template so you yearn for spaces. The Ann Coulter practices space as a definition beyond Ann Coulter control. If the Ann Coulter were alive, the tense of verbs would slowly. That is until the Ann Coulter could speak other sensation.

Poor dark star.

Pour Ann Coulter stadium to union cremation. Line up gasping in present nouns and verbs. Enact an exact tender. We are human before this, like we tell all our friends.

Monday, March 7, 2016

Genuine Global Achievements

Tremendous town, the lights are great. Spanning ages of one sentence, here, the pleasantry of dance or word. Consider yourself a paragraph, Reader. Consider the paragraph yours. Consider the years in between each word. Reader, lift an announcement in your heart that colours green to the height of trees. Reader, you live in a town, a tremendous town!

Monday, February 29, 2016

Might As Well Try

Joliet or Marquette or some subset, political cool grain trusting future in the past Norte Americano soil. France and Iroquois, Mohawk and English, or lightning hit a tree. Or all combined as English, Spanish, French, perfect suds. Lands called lands, to fill as lands. Death register time, touch of the blues. Once the massacre and torture thing while rabid Trump supporters read most of the words on panels laid open to immediate tendency to list. Thinking that that is the weird way sentence grammar, now a daze. Weird grammar speech subsume. Weird sentence sentencing subsume. Weird read of all a word, perfectly genealogical clump. Phil Lesh plays bass all around the subject.

Sunday, February 28, 2016

Chansons Ensemble

Rhyming drone of dance seizes morning or a time. Just about a town and the still grey between words.

Winter nettles or simple glitter of remembered snow on top of the arrogant head of the specious leading figure who, even now, the space between us.

Racist intestinal precinct determines serious claims against any sense of the blue cradling over all. Sigh complete, fellwoing, in the practice after dawn.

A pattern in space until the words make sense. Brass makes music, strings make music, whistling wood makes music. People can surmount the map of mistaking.

Sunday, February 21, 2016

Mitch McConnell to the Courtesy Booth

So deer run into the dark because dark is a champion. We see the events described by those who grow anger. The anger grows in rations, fed to pour. Something about how selfies execute electrons in election years and further remonstrances. Periods of poor light. And the deer run in the dark without sharing names, only the simplest light glint in their eyes until tomorrow. We can talk about tomorrow as a nation of force. Force is a final subject, left mostly for children and the bleak hold of the rented day. Thank you for listing.

Funding His Marketing Strategies

The sentence factor by which we say things a bit builds great momentum to knowing the way down a street where sometimes. Effort along routes that mean so, last time or maybe. The sentence factor supplies everything tho nothing is a lot. The sentence structure wears only, instance and because you have to listen if not care. Drown again, just for show. Each word comes to a conclusion with a tap of meaning implied. Wind in words, as a memory cap. Trucks contain truck, dogs dog. Sentence factor endlessly.

The Affectionate Leadership

Sometimes they swim. Sometimes the town and all the people tell of swimming. A church or two will open a door for a while and water seems real. They swim when they can, in an hour of need or wish you could tell. No one wants a bird anymore.

All the fish are marvelous but the sky opens anything. Surefire rain on the same day as everything, and the people know it. They have been here, and there. Here and there each centre the people. One town is naturally another. People are like that.

Today the people wonder swim. They have didactic reasons and a full wavery diction. Tunes pop up like asking more. Sometimes no word is left, only the floating thing on the water, thing. You could hold the day open, or closed. The people will try any island.

Friday, February 19, 2016

Pictures, Videos, Breaking News

Please autumn with its cool child types. A day in rain, or placed simply in the water. The river rushes in a patter. This much we know. Like words, something addresses the moment. Words become practical markings in the reason of roads and every night. All stars quicken for the one last touch. A sentence lives association, all we are trying to say. BTW, god shares your concern.

Little Leaf Lying on the Ground

A letter in the water near the tree in the way that words go orange on a scale of one to ten. No one in the ocean but a blue cast of owning all. People are parking lots, and the lines in their poems look like strip malls. An advisory from the coast goes to the yellow extent, but green is an awful lot. These aren't poems as people mean. These are simply reports of varying degrees, all of which look like rains. Rain is so purple on plump cold days, more red by simmering ones. We have a lot to share in a message sort of way.

Sunday, February 7, 2016

Marco Rubio Can't Stop Sounding

in exactly clocklike sentences, frantic rampart situations, and oh a rose includes a dying bee, he says the thing that went well with local understanding according to the latest. And then the sentence becomes a sort of communication, in delible packets deliberately made for forming. The exact sound of when Marco agrees to agree with a machine in his nutclamp shoves more moon thru space with exact word combination saying something at this point, repartee. And look at how big small can be when you add fluster to the made yesterday machine. The machine thinks so, tho so as a vantage is a various concern. Marco your pants are showing.

Monday, February 1, 2016

Yo No Soy Marinero

Lay on the sand like
dead refugee child. Tap
magic. Give my dad a job cuz
he needs one. Good times bad
times. Un poca de gracias.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

Obviously, We Will Make America Grate Again

We will repeat American rain again. We will make America grease again. We will make America grain again. We will gain American greed again. Obviously, we will work another lane again. Obliviously, we will want another team again. We will wire want a lot again. We will whine American whey again. We will white when we want to where again. And again we want to weigh again. Shut up Television!

Sunday, January 17, 2016

Donald Trump is Loving

Written words smell like Pan. In the wind, the miles elect district. This is the world. Slavery is upon us, like wait how history deems. Union of grackles in the senate dignifies the splendid acceptance of the falling.

Yours in loose till the special mandate, sluice. Injured in so, me war. Speak Northern or Southern, now and then. Virginia tourism.

Saturday, January 16, 2016

Found in the Laundry

Little pastures of browning, but the pellet grey sky won't stop short. Lighter than air particles of thought stream loving stems of opening flowers. It doesn't work to sad. The words around only stand for timing all the effort left to us. This is the measure for even the winter day of rain. Love is the mention every day. The way thru is the way you.

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

You Will Help Me

Premium dickheads do hunting,
uniting dogs alert to
human semi-exponential
lateral thing
verity.

Gasp ye varlets of tundra
additive (walk to the important
part of earth). Oliver Cromwell was
15 cubits wide, like lot of shit
in those days.

Monday, January 11, 2016

We Want Your Bread

Christmas Father and Mother, the rock seems like too much continent now. The lacking rain forms nowhere much on the stuffed land we dream of. Christmas brother or what you call you now, let the noise remain. There is a story sitting in revolt. No one has enough. I want you, catalogue, enough to say town of people town.

That One Trace Letter Literally Becomes the Sky

and all the effort that went into it. Such as the day as could be given, taken, seen, or heard. The vast lesson hid in plains and turrets, peaks of surprise. Which person could be better today, if time didn't matter? The letters of each word seem surprised by the latest flurry of doubt. We will help each person, someday, to the height of the open sky. Let that be the basis of our imperial thunder.

Someone In This Town

Perplexed with raincoat or even the cold wind from all of yesterday, the person standing by. We will watch this person, the sum of verbs and nouns of speech that elicit appropriate or unneeded adverbs and adjectives. What are you talking about, Person?

We have seen children, even elderly ones, in their loss and timelessness. Someday a support will arise and occur. Someday that music, not bleating or the tribe gone for horizon. Someday on the offing of this expressed vintage. Desultory today but perhaps someday. Person, can you wait?

Saturday, January 9, 2016

Drug Lord Joaquin "El Chapo" Guzman Met With Sean Penn

Will the same symbol win? You are a tadpole.

Will the space between tadpoles continue? A rustle of leaves or piracy.

We got the feeling we got the magic now.

Monday, January 4, 2016

The Greatest Pillow in the World

We could glide capaciously in today's tomorrow, if the snow isn't envious and old on our common ground. We could settle artful questions. Adjectives provide seasons, even cold ones. The chain of envy tells us so.

Now today, the enveloping dark of an only day remind us of time. Time is grand and smoky, needing words to approximate its distribution with love. We are together now, we can hear the light of fronds.
Today is a national day, a worldly day, a day full of tomorrow's tooth and nail. Imagine the anger in today, left to go tomorrow. Imagine today, left to yesterday's wage.

We aren't really singing these songs, these tropes, these shires of mirth and memory. We lose our wheels to the portents of donation. Our pillow means a lot.

We are together now, green spires called trees or bracing. Our pillow means a lot. Our pillow means our love.