Monday, February 26, 2007

from thesecstasies

well I wouldn't say that

waked in rapture and once more we longer to have paris no this not-being-here isn’t it is all in the eyes I mean along with love being the haggard line of mild hills black is against the blue not because it is similar but because that’s what love and what love love gets

then again or sometimes it just happens this is myopia whereas we were previously mistaken in mistaking it for self-seeing visions it is very hard to consider over there as not the future is neither past nor some meta-thing position I know that

but try for your father’s sake to get along in the next three days while it lasts ‘cos it won’t always and in an instant to be gone leaving escarpments to scrape the foil off of this scratch card night

perhaps it is not relevant so I will speak of lonely trains and journeys taken looking for you as if a concept crossing beaches sideways which sang or didn’t usually and ones that tapped their feet making whoopee in their own goddamn way

yes life is no journey that’s for sure but oh no do not ask what is it one day I may just go right up there and let a tabby cat out of a silvery bag in manner so fluid so beguiling you as a whole might take it on as some version of a general truth

telling/ordering blintzes one some rue on some other ruse and but because is it all looking as if you mean it but only now and not really all as there is is left-overs which you missed them as he had to eat them transports of a war-child

thank jesusgod europe has only the one life left in the new three strikes and yer out morality where did I hear that the noise of shire horses gambolling on heavy turf perhaps is a little bit sodden a sense of it we wept into each other then

and there and did those feet and did we wail and we were sons of them those handsome mounties who keep going is the very image of a constancy of process shit came too soon the precious which is the essence

rising up against a shabby backdrop you chase out no but let me say to you such hirsute simplicities of our being even on this place rather than any other we could opt for stroking-it-as-being with still one more line to go oh no I’s closed
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