isn't

can't
say whom

can't
say when

i can swim in the light
though
float in the darkwater
everywhere

how isn't it?
you think we're really breathing?

how isn't it.
that is not a question.

he never wanted to be,
for example.
we.
that's a noun.
this a statement:
it's something i make when
i'm not making something else.

Bathless anything; Breakfast everything (PS I don't take the word "slut" lightly)

never  anything
less than the rain west
([the train north, Mest?])
more  never   anything
(...w/less rules than)
the less   always   everything
([we are our town's best]).

f r i e n d s

Benefit: (-less?)
less than that which the rain than wet; &, It's 
still what I grab that makes me a man.
(Niet!)

the
Anways
article, eh?:
 even a slut
  has got to wake up. 

It's Physics

we are prolific
we read heiros--Terrific
got a radio in my ear--Quiet down
The Navy's telling me they're gonna dive, clown,
I have whale ears; sonic testing; ow!!!
(no joke)
Yeah that's how your ears feel
(I poke)
painful under pressure
(Facebook pose)
at least it's real
the pressure of water
(but I can't even feel). 

v i c o d i n f i s h (Klonopinish)

Prologue:

Do we ever know     how a smile appears

 --maybe in distant cold, somewhere lonely, like deers--

i've erected battles before, left, right & here. 

Inaudible:

extend beyond

 rappers have seized on our short

attention             span;

i mean;                                 man;

who in-gods-name do we

tell ourselves anything other than

this is what i do: I DO WELL

me strong, more potent, more GREEDY

I’ll wipe out the police, reclaim the NEEDY

i’m here! motherfuckers! shout for joy

i look out the window like i’m opening a toy

fuck what they say I am the greatest Paloi  

put next to the Fawkes I'm next most Guy-oi

don’t gotta much sense ever glib time like Kanye

I just chill with my AP stylebook and light up

snakes on my shoulders, bitches thighs up,

fire in the corner, this shit is going down,

man is on fire like Jason has Argonauts

(amazing invisible spiders! giant yellow pots!)

I can’t see where I’m going, the future is my past

Can’t see where I going the future licks my bass

Caught fresh just like you like it hon

Caught fresh like a vicodin fish

Not even trying anymore, Good post T

insect
rosewood
melodrama
snood
lynchpin
siamese kittens
the lame pup McGonagall
snow rabbit's slippers
a little milk lost, maybe
something part electric
all the snow
rainbows beyond rainbows
grass
stone
a man named Erotic
blazing deals

Conversation (in French)

"Do I make too much social commentary?"
I asked her, fully expecting a "no".
In fact, she leaned across the table and unleashed:
"Well, on our first date you said you weren't going to ask me any questions, because you thought that q&a was the lowest form of conversation. And then on our second date, you walked across the street when the light was red, because you 'don't need baby pictures to tell you when to cross'. And how you always say that people just conform to norms without a second thought to what's best for them. So in that sense, yes, you do make too much social commentary."
"What kind of questions should I ask you?" I replied, with a wan smile.
"Not that one" she deadpanned. "And you're too sarcastic, while I'm at it. How about you ask me: how was your day?"
"Can't you just tell me how your day is? Why do I need to ask you about it? I figure, if there's something interesting, you'll tell me. If you didn't that would be weird."
"You've never asked about my family."
"Sure, I have. Your brother, whatshisname, he's in school. And your dad's a culinary artist, your mom is retired, and your cat Fredo has been dying for the last 2 years"
"None of that is right!"
"Oh. Ok, Well, I'll ask you more questions. Here's one: when's our anniversary?"
"You can't be serious. I thought you planned this dinner for a reason? Tonight is our 10-year anniversary!"
"Yes of course, I was just kidding. I'll stop being sarcastic as of now."

Caper

"If I wrote my life story on a piece of toilet paper, it wouldn't amount to shit," Antonio said, staring off into space.

"No shit, Burqaman." That was Felipe, always hanging around to throw the cauldron on. Like a witch with a hot temper but less restraint. More hate.

Felipe with his felts hats on, always asking, blunt ashing on. Burnt ham to my Burnham charm.

EXTRA STOVEPIPE !!!

All I really need
are extra pipestoves.
And gloss for the girl,
her lips that is.
Also some striped bass
for the stream yonder,
come spring. While
we're on this topic,
though, nails would be nice,
for the saplings
I intend on fashioning
into a new hamper.

Professors love having middle age students!!!

If you ask most college professors about middle age college students, they can tell you a lot of reasons why they love having them in their class!

Such as:
--They take shits!!!
--They may have had babies!
--They might know how to bake!!!
--Some of them are French spies (exclusively female)!
--Some of them are huge opinionated bitches thanks to hours in a menial position all day, with passive-aggressive tendencies to boot!!! (Not you, Cheryl!!!)
--They are hard-working!
--They take Lipitor but Pfizer doesn't see that money because their patent protection ran out!!!
--Their favorite Shakespeare might be Taming of the Shrew!!!
--Professors love a great debate with their students--it keeps them from getting bored!!!
--I'm getting bored!!! You're so meta!
--They actually show up to class!!!!!!!

Tidal or Laundry

twitter is illiterati
twice as naughty
as pants on laundry
neoNazi
James Cameron started a parade
to the Titanic facade
always receding like Ahmad
Bradshaw his dad saw
how fly he be (aw)
staring at the stars (draws)
looking at they tree (s drawls)
smoking mad cigars
smoking mad beers

I smoke so much laundry
ima take a shower
a showa
i'm my plowers
big naked muscles bitches!
i came to rhyme, snitches!
i cook you like a crab
i found in dey tidal flatz
smoking mad crab weed
smoking mad buds
then i put in my pot and cook you
bitches

Skinema

Whoa, says somebody
(as somebody wears)
a grin thin a homebody

a white horse
in the field of daisies
whiter still (Kofalk)

or more moroseness
white, the whiteness
of being, white politeness
and blackness in my
morning joe, this mud pit
of staunch white cinema
staunch bright grinema
(the grinning of a can
dleabra)

What a blanket looks like (notepad, glanced)

A.
the tomb of the dinosaur codes
like magic filaments of paper dentists
imaginary salamanders folding their chairs
and clamoring off to work.

B.
"options that would involve large-scale engineering of our environment in order to combat or counteract the effects of changes in atmospheric chemistry"

C.
really neat idea (subtle and ingenious) that definitely merits further study. It's anybody's guess whether it'll prove to be feasible in practice, but well worth exploring. And the paper is really well written and well-balanced too (David is one of the most sensible and knowledgeable people in the world on these issues)

1.
"I believe in baths,"
she said. "Mostly for birds,
but also cameras. You know,
to put things in." She relaxed,
just barely, and managed to shrug
her shoulders. "What I'm saying
is there must be a way, to end
it all, without an ending."
Inhaled. "I'm really quite insane,
aren't I?"

2.
I believe in second chances
holidays in Branson (Richard, not Missouri)
and staunch NO CANDY APPLES rules
for those without teeth.

3.
October was for black flags,
flying them,
anointing them like altars,
one by one by one
or take a second look, a good
look and a shudder and a meat pie
just eat it up, hey? look into
my eyes and see that i'm just spiriting
about the room about to peruse some
fatal elemental crabshack wondering
"Are we there yet? No." But a taco
stand, halfway to the moondrake.

Freestyle part I

What's the etymology of entomology?
Willy Wallaby.
Wannabe
like a Spice Girl.
Spice World nice girl, nice
pearl necklace.
Sexist mexicans and blacks,
attack all of em,
black olive em,
I track Taliban - Osama, Obama
Tally me banana
smoothies, strawberry
Harry Belafonte - Stephon Marbury
I'm a star so bury me
Marry me, I the wed
Day of the Dead
De los Muertos
Los Puertos
The Doors are closing- Jim Morrison
mind the gap not the chorus, son
Freestyle like a Ford Taurus: done