This is a compilation of all the things I both do and don’t love.
Correction, colon, I being, comma, not the nonbeing form. Praise and
apologies are due to this existence, which is at all times to be wasted.
Please do not (said with emphasis) enter here.
Begin list, exact date time location, dot, execute, unknown.
Blacks, coloureds, children, pylon, tech, army, black, complaints,
addresses, addressees, dresses, microwaves, ovens, microwave ovens,
conditioner, scalp tingling, Russians, toxicity levels unacknowledged,
bravery, dams, plumbers, Japan, drafts under doors, drafts at the bar,
drafts, giraffes, concave planes, conventional wordsmiths, diuretics,
urethras, eureka, Eurasia, golf, shopping lists, the lint that sticks from
underwear, indigo socks, confetti…
The list continues on for some while before it reaches the next universe.
At which point, words become more like organisms.
And a one and a two, blocks, streets emaciated from the chivalrous act of
gentrification, complete movie series, information that has not yet been
pirated, textures that aren’t wearable, textures that just are, convertible
sports stadiums, a concrete asylum named the prison, introduction/send off
ceremonies, certain cloud forms parenthesis please refer to the manual
parenthesis hypnosis under mismanaged auspices, gravel asterisk a condition
more detailed in our last edition, part-time work covering, counseling with
a u, the EU, acidity, coming back into you, Danny Glover syndrome, the
phenomena between remembering and forgetting, lunch, menus, disaster
seasons, dressings, primordial tape measures, and the concept of God.
It is up to you as the current reader/listener/beloved to find yourself
within these lines, comma, and find a way to fill the spaces absolutely.
Previously I mentioned that everything is tinged in sanity, without
mentioning a hue or even what a tinge is. I think the dictionary would
define it as a type of shading that acts only in a temporary manner. As I
lay in my bed, thumbing through the keyboard to translate random brain
activity into alphanumeric separations that can be sought, I realize there
is nothing left to say. Beginnings are far too often. Mines encircle the
grave/throne that has been built without me. Cigarettes are bad in snow.
Yet the suffering is a realization of surfacing. Monolithic kernel.
With the gateway ticket to advancement,
She yearns for rendezvous with the buoy. Solipsistic.
Wings wobble under the pressure of turbine engines rotating, endlessly.
Several humorous microphones chat it up about choppy weather.
Clouds precipitate in this atmosphere. She unfurls the hijab, readying it
to be wrapped about her head. 360 degrees, 180, swoop swoop, pin.
Emotional baggage lacks the commercial accessibility to be carried on an
intercontinental flight. It i/must/i be stored on 32GB of 3.0USB capacity.
What browses through intensity proper.
A couple miles beneath her children skip through the rain; some with
umbrellas, others without. Stone cement splashes miniature Hiroshimas
underneath the children’s feet. Puddles become.
Concave visitation to the cellular monster once called home. Booms begotten
– stark comparison to a days worth of soy milk – as the molecular
architectures tear apart. Bonds destroyed indeterminately.
We’re low on oxygen, so it would be best to preference yourself in the case
of an emergency. Save your baby second. Need I repeat it?
It is not Gucci. It is also not a bandanna. This is not as fancy, she says,
but it is of better qual. As well, she’d rather not waste money on Gucci
when there are starving people right up the street. Ramadan was last week.
Jet fuel streaks unforgettable paths across the sky. That renounced
vestige. If you would now turn to page 9, they have written you a reminder
Not as basic as dollar store perfume. Oh sorry. Excuse me. Turbulence
awakens the frightened fervor of devotees. Cast into the random arm of
nature: uncertainty. Beneath the streets, there lies a tunnel that is
strewn with graffiti who’s meaning only known to few. Bystanders peddle
their designer bikes over these museums.
Complicit or complacent? What happens if I can never access my portable
hard drive again? How will I access files that I backed up. _ the chapparal
begin to blaze under flawless heat radiation. My words are weird. My mouth
is weirder. Let me show you.
Some Sonora filed under the pile of written l terraces. A brash,
ignominious formalization of unconqyered territory. Perverse pandemonium. A
cross country race to the nearest basin. National bestseller.
Message! How was pg 9? “Your name’s still my password”
Part 2 – Konami
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Tassels, for you’re Rolex, loafers for your chinos.
Am I not supposed to be tired?
Vacuum that is/n’t. Spaced from my hyperbolic capsule. Portals all empty to
portcullis. Solitary immediacy. The sportswear make the domestic workers
look better. Are we worth more than a non- tempered piece of metal.
Calamities take root in filial judgements. Uninterested, guess who doesn’t
look my way. Some science made the message indecipherable. For short.
Where is the love of life? Intentionality crowns adept homonyms into the
sorcery university. Curvature appears – disappears – reappeared.
-Remy Gates, class of 2016