Simple Theories

  Dawn reads a wider As it raises day grey carefully and easing wind will shake X establishes mystery of quantity And nothing more But strange constellating field of token now Psychoanalysts from the very tree filled city streets bamboozle effective wainscoting elfware of the elements well down and into the scour, to see the precinct and the transferring light. Follow straight to the bending, marginal made ideal. All sonority escapes in simple trillions against too much. Featured vowel supply capital unknown to equity:  Paintings of suspicious blue and axion, oculated until desperate, tho hinged. Fast piping from the smoky hills and radical heights.  Jocular bonus in so many words or sport festoon.  Some doors fastened to approximation.  Another quake aspirant, adaptive rivulet reproach.  A talent for the present tense and passing, with violins and nostra.  A picnic concluding picnic, with any child aware.  And so forth, eliminating the need for u...

  I had studied medicine in Vienna, six months. A moth the size of wings flew impressively to my memory of Vienna, beer gardens, brilliant lectures, and those days and attendant nights. O the waltzes, the psychoanalysts in their wood-paneled supremacy, music plucked vine-fresh from piano keys, expansions of hardened bratwursts in the market. And medicine, the clear wooing of tense gods for betterment and salutes. I would help the populace with a candid use of my educated presumptions. My hopeful eyes trained on a future of health-giving consultations. My patients would receive my advice as payload. Listen! Place bitter feet in a bucket of warm salted water. Rise at dawn and wrap all arms around a logically soothing tree. Wear a wool scarf while jumping fitfully, 30 minutes. Stand poised upon a granite boulder, gathering deep breaths and a promise of future rancour towards opiates. And then: crow going lasts a wingspread above plane earth over map and features into day as porous as ...

  At the beginning of a sentence one notes the presence of Babylon as a distinct locus obscured by moral blandishment. The sentence proceeds as a cultural thought then rises to viscous voices and smoke rendered as forgetting. All this, one sentence, and building a mere paragraph. Ousels and doves follow the darkening sky cosmos shining plan varied only in hierarchy  thoughts of green apples and explosions  the next best hold on the people till the city turns to light  it might in active commerce and desperation  just that rumble of battle so sensible and well  activated for the future of this past in mind  the script unravels in saint and snake  loser take all to language’s pithy end

  inspire function from the start with event widening and contracting word by word wave sounding the universe a passerby asks “Do your beans bring quickening nitrogen from the gods to your farm plot?” as the crow flies croaking  farm plot?” as the crow flies croaking

  Tell me everything, Babylon. I was up early tho I later napped. I know Hamurabi sliced a grape in coded enterprise enterprise, and here’s the thing, or should I even say. Amorite King Sumuabum stood almost tall but we have billionaires in our fair clouds and feral clog for the benefit of wastelands. That’s not my courage talking, but a vision of some outcast words and potable drama until feet match the path. History is a curious cruller that can be received in sunlight. Cruller as a unit springs funnier than donut, even knowing how to spell. The rivers leak up the plain but it’s not so important now, desert began as forethought. Afterthought may just round the bend but the feature cannot be immaculate. As the silt builds you wonder what, finally. But  what  followed by a curlicue just makes you mad. Scored rock speaks softly below the engine noise but anyway. Carrying the trauma does wonders for the waistline. The enemy remains as a how-to-respond exaction, timed to the...