Tuesday, October 21, 2014

My Panker.

It ranks among the most beautiful in Holstein.

My Panker is distant, a Kleinod from Episode Nine, only three km from the country Futternapf.

The ropery managed there.

Borders and shading sharpen a Trakehner, as well over 1500 hectares agricultural surface’re worked over.

However you find steeds of Panker only. (The machines are accommodated on neighboring property, Schmelzbad, which attained sad celebrity in the last witch burn.)

Beside Panker observation tower, from which one can see in good weather the far over Baltic Sea to Danemark, the Forestry House Hessen Stone lies.

In former times foresters got their Aufbesserungen with its sailors for a Senkrecht. From that foresters with sailors Hessen Stone grew.

Today one can eat excellently and jazz friends here come also.

Monday, October 20, 2014

Like dozens of others spin
ning into effect, I will never make chicken
soup for you, I never make
chicken soup but if you needed me
to I would.

You come before vegetarian salvation.
I will never make
that either.

Friday, October 17, 2014

Stunning, new chaps:

CALCINATIO by Kimberly Lyons
ONE-LINERS by Vincent Katz
I HAD EVERY INTENTION by Michael Gottleib.

Covers by Tom Burckhardt. Read more:


Thursday, October 16, 2014

To be disciplined on our new motion furniture
requires drill, “...comfort is a habit of empire.”
Start over. Abruptly
per Chronicles of Goo,
I’m knocking nonprofessionals
off, throwing knives, wrecking them
from the inside, slicing up!

A he-mind’s pill for breathing is long overdue.

And we’re back on one conjoined vertigo seat, now
reading and writing without an attorney.
“That’s how the paint sails” within taxonomies, overheated,
a mind occupied, just so, musks in the field and so forth.

The bus door was gone.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

You’re friend is coming. You mean the theme costumes?

Wearing a wigless wig is my method and model.

When I hear topical shifts forward hidden risks it’s iterative, baroque: As if after
her death Couperin sprawled with the naked around Antoinette.

Let’s find one thing to agree on.

I usually snooze after a bonfire of love, & like Coup, not one note of cynicism vis à vis whom I adopt.

It’s better after I begin to wake I’ve landed. A roundhouse in the sun is great. I merge at the top, asleep..

Moreover, I landed. A roundhouse in the sun.. the left knee was just there when it was there, then took a variant position in summary terms of a sequence with only a few I could see up thru to the pleasantest valley. Police went wild one lane over, so I was arrested while asking myself, do

I understand profuse clouds are disassociated?

How is a partner shiny but then fallen with grey streaks?

Huh? Is it the fire? Up in smoke, flames sparks glow,

the red moon indispensable for smearing made light

that travels down in a tiered borderlike scrawl.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

There’s an echo upstairs.
That guy was the 1st to get a grip and hold on. He was witless after a while, undead.
You disappear, and you have children and they disappear.
He was Vietnamese. Works for the post office.

Inner wresting? That word again.
It’s kind of an unbuttoned, squeegeed pain to wrest
a dishonest hermaphroditic itch gerrymandered in ambiguity, where
it goes away, released at last into newly impartial states;

the tide appears to notarize something.

We came here to our senses to put up a hoax mailing.

Apologies to my mate.

So what if we both went thru the door leading to the rescue
of childhood? and all it contains,
all I could have told you?

Friday, October 10, 2014

Let’s run an empire far off the — the first the —
& inhibit stimulus regulation within sight
Killer Joe staying small they say, only to walk-ins
& wrestlers who portray border patrol..

I’m thinking of a movie, “Do you know how many?”

The sun shines larger. We rely, really like your ideas. / O
great. You can stay with me + have what you own grow
as an entire practice, obsessive habits flattened into
cognition-festering symmetry

about a skirmish between distinctions
over words bringing up the actual goods
times incorrigible brain-states of Asia.

It’s a question of .. you can say art or Art Farmer.
There are no stages.

Thursday, October 09, 2014

There’s no way to degrade-ultimately-destroy capital.

After millennials there’s homesickness, new inebriation, a little suffering a little moving in with my
parents because they like me... I just don’t worry: It’s my best opus, a tight 100 hours of urban-U,
Godzillian scale narrative casually hiding in self help boilerplate..

I’m feeling polyphonic with an uncapped fortune, reflecting what I did when my adolescent
backbone iced up, raising all boats, all social levels. My greatest fear is going deeper into Dr Jeckel —
I’d be dragging a palm frond around 4 a.m. That would kill my parents.

They’re dead already.

If you’re anamorphic, government 2 often comes out with all-of them, highlights. Or low-2-high if you like
sex, be sure 2 wake me up. Pick a spot and be seen as well as seem breathing, o Swami —
Our guardians are tired of interruptions and self reflective outreach; hence the corporation is late

and lonely as an interdiscipline that threatens. Solitude, confidences, you’ll earn times in the day,
the plays and jungle, many in a series — during your mother’s labor you chose your parents,
keeping their lives 2 lose you.

Wednesday, October 08, 2014

Thank you for your musical style, a payee’s piece about

the imageless form to experience / current status win-loss =

Average as guilt, blandness is a problem. No luck, too popular.

Everything dark brute-accented inflates 3 dimensions into immense mist clots

too mid-acre to reformulate. (It’s up in the air. The property goes on while.)

The ornithologists’ gist is the sparrow’s wardrobe is beaten but breathing.

The unequal in luck float more. I hope you’re happy.

Monday, October 06, 2014

Truth is we’re feathery.

Shorthand abstractions

like these unforgettable elements to our touching and holding the moment,
surrounding it with illusions of taking off for the unknown, spinning or spun,
upset, out of control yet

that’s how we fasten the starry messenger to move around objects.

100% our touch.