moral l'amor

missive cinchings

I've missed.
emissive had.

missile sd.
dismissal.

simile &.
the missal.

offal vile.
et I smile.

is not unlike

      who are you

ʇou noʎ ǝɹɐ oɥʍ

Newsies

north riven 

mcinnis earns designation. worldwide & the eighth. contributions to the profession. taken any action as of yet. it's not that you are not. all applicants. organization's stringent. to be finished. who noted changes. in the works. conceptual plans for future. dual pathways. donations include nonperishable. how can we prepare. program will be held. visitors to palmetto might think. speaking competition this saturday. include a multi-modal. in the service of the savior. burton was asking. come on people. vendor spaces. I will never accomplish this. at noon and the fourth/fifth final. available throughout. ah-choo. this is a really positive. library cards prior. for all she has done for you. city observes national day of prayer. fine forgiveness week. items returned after 5 p.m. last days prophecy. recently an article. lost his life in combat. god bless america and those who. however it is calculated. a bad statistic. these women must not realize. surpassed criteria. lowry is the editor of the national. natural affection will be diminished. what a sad time we live. and the problem is. where the whole thing. then again I just found out I was eligible. it just means I haven't as of yet. keep in touché.

immanens

1. Whom. w/ HMO. W = ohm.

 

2. .Resist sense .cyst Resents .His 3¢

3. Destroy. destory.

paranoidcitizenemailchains.com

@OhWonka

Oh, there's a Condescending Wonka twitter account? Tell me, how many riffs until this formula is funny again? #trendingflopics

Poem eighteen

dear me,
sleep on my belly leaves my body feeling heavy & hot yet hollow typing light so my tree trunk fingers don't smash tiny keys my hands full in gargantuan sleep they don't feel even the weight of their own pressing in the morning my arm shot through with lightning things like funny bones remind there is sensation almost makes me cry to know it can be lost & unthought pain hurts most when they find the cure for worry that will be the end of feeling I cried once a route canal a natural side effect of the anesthetic they said it was expected but why did I feel sad about no feeling in my face why was it real crying I began thinking of death which comes to me mostly on planes or in the skidding toward collision but it was a sense of death a senseless living I never want to feel it again tho this is pretty close my hands rubbing because I make them say so don't be so melodramatic it's just nerves but what if my nerves say what they like & that thing leaves be on the scout for replicable sensations or innocent songs maybe will do I'm near sighted but nearing the not seeing tradition maybe I don't want to see the inside what ticks my explaining will improve I'll find new words to translate the being I've constructed what you'd call hands or soul a flood of feeling to part with a moving breath you can't get hung up on these things keep liking keep doing never provide yourself the option of failure even if nothing else seems to be seen or sense I sense the wavering in your words what makes you think I'm enjoying this this constant intake of air & sound can people die in their sleep if they have no sense no loss of see no thinking to thing about

move,

               Hands

Poem seventeen

before walking

what did people do before walking
I was born mostly in the 80s
there's blood in my veggie burger
never been good with maps
red lentils my new fixation
receipt's under the fridge
Seymour swats, mews
picking blackberries
try to discriminate tart from the not
they're not real berries 
says Wikipedia but real phones
the lookout looked as if
we could ride the power lines
straight into Birmingham
the mines were off-limits
imagined we enter still
distrust how well this is going
our tryst with Tzarism but which
kind Catherine was great

Poem sixteen

salad days,

when I was green in gorgement

maladies,

when I was gleam in ailment

rhapsodies,

when I was free in movement

fallacies,

when I was beat in argument

palisades,

when I was lean in besiegement

readymades,

when I was stream in content

Poem fifteen (term paper-writing edition)

amn't

I'm onto you
I'm in the backseat
I'm with the parson's daughter
I'm from the moon
I'm under the auspices
I'm aside the fig tree
I'm beneath the mattress
I'm of all people
I'm aloft the vale
I'm without a name
I'm beyond thunderdome
I'm in good company
I'm at the inn
I'm within the vault
I'm above the law
I'm around the corner
I'm below the deck
I'm about the yard
I'm upon the notion
I'm inside the wall
I'm about to

Poem fourteen

summerbunching

because she red idle mentions thought frankly sense pulls respective margin cold sheer clasps avenue lust freckling articulate ceviche smiles read verlaine ticklish hard breath shiver under beeches reddened palms tingle human lathered tile quiet color sound blind swimmingly compressed french holding brightest how about nightwalking close bunched hair late constellate mornings showerfucked libel teeth bruise thrown nap heat dry neck island frequents morose furniture red shaking paw comfy rushing pull into absent fingers sway untimely whispers unslept yearns wakeless dreamt and dreaming he

Poem thirteen

essentially fronts
or let run the gaunt
& abstract negations
of miasmic light
or cotton rather
"symmetry created to
my fellow denizen
sojourn (stay for a day
into the woods, by
seasonal patterning
of rings of ridged
round & cozy
if only to wake
my neighbors up
blood in the midst
is not an unreal
two circles
leave us chiasmi
to circle back
in fear of hope
could you"
"you could

Poem twelve

Poem eleven

I like this shirt. I don't want to stop wearing this shirt. I want to go on wearing this shirt. I dislike the smell of the armpits of this shirt. I remove and prepare to clean this shirt. I start hot water, unscrew the detergent, procure a cloth, and commence scrubbing this shirt. I scrub only the armpits of this shirt. I neglect the other, cleaner parts of this shirt. I don't see a need to scrub the perfectly undirty parts of this shirt. I don't wish to completely drench this shirt. I plan at the nearest possible convenience to continue wearing this shirt. I admire the modest blue and beige pattern of this shirt. I go on dates wearing this shirt. I go to work and class wearing this shirt. I sit alone watching unsentimental art house films in this shirt. I avoid speculation as to healthiness of my fixation and resigned indifference to this shirt. I slide over rings on the shower curtain rod so to hang this shirt. I grow impatient and set up the iron and ironing board for this shirt. I turn on the iron and think about the town where I bought this shirt. I remember the person I was with when I bought this shirt. I imagine the store, the aisles, the rack where I found this shirt. I also bought a sweater, three books, and new-looking tennis bag when I bought this shirt. I think of the first time I wore this shirt. I took someone to dinner, someone other than the someone who was there when I bought this shirt. I felt certain and good in this shirt. I went for a walk on the beach after dinner in this shirt. I  buried my feet, kicked waves, did a cartwheel in this shirt. I feel the hot iron and press it against the wet parts of this shirt. I smell the fresh heated cotton rising from this shirt. I iron the dry, wrinkled parts of this shirt. I take extra care around the sleeve-seams, try not to leave creases or folds, flaunting the flatness of this shirt. I stroke for buttons recently come loose on this shirt. I search for lint and paper detritus in the chest pocket of this shirt. I press with my hands, feel the dry warm armpits of this shirt. I lift this shirt. I pinch the collar, flip open the one sleeve then the other, sliding both arms into this shirt. I pull the collar so it hangs even around my neck. I button each button. I open my pants, tuck it in. I sit at the table, hands flat. This shirt is so aware of its wornness I don't remember how it fits.

Poems eight, nine, ten

Three ways of listening at Wang Wei
Homophonic translations into English of the pinyin Chinese transliterated from Wang Wei's poem "鹿柴" (c. 8th century), inspired by Weinberger & Paz's 19 Ways of Looking at Wang Wei.

luge aye
conscionable genre, rend
on when wren, ye song,
fondle jingling russian, lent
for joking tension

+

huge eye
cone sham, imbue sun red,
an oven wrench, you sang
fending mineral shame, lean
fuchsial contortion

+

shy Lou
cunt john beau john, rent
down whether in use, anger
fans, gingering rouge leaf
or jowl king, asian

"Phonemic similarity is sensed as semantic relationship. The pun... reigns over poetic art, and whether its rule is absolute or limited, poetry by definition is untranslatable." -Roman Jakobson