The Hamilton Ode not up to my usual fight, but fighting harder. hairs pulling out. deviations. Eliot, wot. Purely literary, or did it die. no sense in it. hairs pulling. piles hairs. set of it. confusing, destabilizing, obstruction, jam. blind. whose voice echoes self phone call down the hall where sister lives. Paris gives eternally. but cant see my lifes license on this unleashed earth. or how with girth for birth i am helpless of this determinity. she. she. into the earth. no voices mix voices mix. angry at you too, pal. calming and servant. the hand tires over centuries. who cannot read. using words anyways. blocked as stone. under the avenue des Invalides. Been there anyways furiously cycling my fathers words the thought of you. I am not arms to sit on high high i tell you without with this. she uttered more but I explained nothing. an entire epoch gone if you understand history. as alive as the breaking leaf dropped from the lofty tower in pale day before was born this love of language this dead love turn like blood and soul into the otters waterfall. The all of Christian aunts and uncles in one town antique military garb preserved with stripes and trim and some icon, a forget me not (real i tell you like the others) Harve who put their foots up on the desk in another era. that was spooky too. threadbare we thrashed vodka but you shone brilliant like starlight, like snow, like moon. i was enamored of it. tumbled the ice tumbled I am not going to church I pass the church. signposts. what little weve got in this world. if i could tell you every radius. one on me. but ill tell you another. what exact what distinguishes what confluence of ideas tempered by mental drama and physical karma the sensorium roundly dictates of the observium. Necessarily messy the pizza goers not sticking to the point not like anyone disavowing language to tell it bone. she shewn listen the brocade lace curtains moonlight trim the stories piled so conspicuously on the edges and flats and leftover space a bit of doily two ounces of oil or gum her breath her cheeks her lips eyes staring down livid and cold wonderful in a cataclysm. the navel of sensibility perjuring marvels if only because poised in this fake world. marvelling at others i dreamed i was like you you me who had no differences and served me well to my dying breath. the exact flare the insignia steadier than wall exempt to man. no wonder the wide world. her angled chin her paraffin the fields of bone. Lace of her gesture across the table with understanding. No substitute can fain understand the impossible the impossible to speak. how can you convey this moving suggestive colorful world of events into its utterance, warm as companion. as utterly devoid of trappings as the voice of the crone. pale awning of umbrella o pale awning of umbrella o pale awning of the umbrella our pact o pale dawning of the umbrella executed in this city is stronger than wood or stone places where people walk the tide gates of the year where do they go? Returning home a thousand times just as you have everything the same our difference is understood thus the mouse and the rabit. the considered agenda. the routine. drab in rain. can you hear me as familiar as ever through these sheets of strain these ideas, this language-- no longer of use, to temper my tongue. I accept gravestones and robbers broken string of pearls the absolute memory of what you cannot speak except in the cemetery but in complete secrecy. My words go to the grave without me lacking your esteem. but more specific the tides to tell it as it strikes the town while the town sleeps independent of each other i love you. all of that strange atmosphere brought in by the others was so particular and roman. by way of mexico city. I am just some bloke sitting on a CD except when Im talking to you half a mind to dreaming the other half but also as in life tried to escape. so many times they had me. and we were separated. Ill try one last time to focus my image of her: and then speak silence. That day, in the helm, with her sweater, wont in winter, truly in the fosdick of the generation stick. but she alone so resolved to duty safety in management boisterous with life. I too I too heard her kettle on the ashes and the vein of modern art struck at me through the moonlight to different sorts of conclusions much unlike my youthful enthusiasms except in my youthful enthusiasm. to run out of paper give me a break (I am not running for president) set apart to draw conclusions. Drew this: the space she left me hovered between bird hours with the resolvency of evening attired in library living it all. Can I be exact more meaning? There is a state I call on for these things that pays it homage to the idols of the imagination, here in Far Rockaway, or merely under the pale awning in October, wind-swept. I call on no differences to resolve the exact opinion of expediency. Nay sharp barbs from me ho. I served me in this kitchen the cake and steam of life where the clams boil in the broth The Union Club what of it I tell you certainly in the entire cosmos which I have studied (for I am Socrates, John Webster uttered) the early efforts were the most divine. but now they piously agree with beldames splendide, cote de ville, or other room, innocent and vile, over the grass cliffs into the dunes. there is a word for this ka i cannot find its meaning it is a mystery but male and ugly and wears a mustache i attach no importance to it remain yours steadfastly constricted by. around the car parks. no no there is no way. I serve my divinity. That has changed. From what it was and is (and all the little things that happened in between) to what it will be what it is now to think it. thought love then certainly and judging by florida gained echoes of the grandiloquent dead and parted curtains thus with my back to you so many years ago (what do I sleep with it-- the exact name, tag and room number of it) this commerce of fame supplies the visages of Joseph and Mary. You see that is the art defines her generation and perception know of its sensibility its double. while theres a chance of getting stiffly straight ill undertake to seduce you my reader with exact details of my love divine. she was made of wood pine and smelled like a tank and I was happy. Something in my own line. Am I the man with the cane whom you find insane? The important man to whom I discussed the significances of a dying art, a general in the field. It is not unclear to me what line I might be taking, what line I shall take. I put this before you as an example of what happens when the wild of portray comes in stern conflict with the ethereal other, absolutely unique; whereof, silence. But bonds are broken and the I you take is but 5 years of jottings stalling and starting or illuminated on the porch, I remember stained glass windows, and your parents at evenings, just one evening in all these years was that the real of it I do think it was real and easily dissolveable in the system of tables, the tablature of disposals. The beneficiary of these inane topics will know only a style a rhythm of speech without which there is no world. they take off from mexico city, performing the seven arts of love, though chiefly in the engine. I am not telling you backwards what I dont know already myself. I am no Great God Brown barking from the coliseum though my autumn fall so steadily. I read it on the newsprint, on the cards, the telephone directory, matchbooks, packaging, calendars, objects, stationary-- exclusive ads for the 5 oclock eye. Im with you fully if you want to leave here I can dispose of in verse what simple immediacy I need to. I can drop it and go on the run with you. to imaginary deficiencies. no letters to no king. excuse the elizabethan madness-- better told.
Posted on: Sat, 19 Apr 2014 01:50:57 +0000
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