Saturday, November 01, 2003

odd strong Fort
Detroit before running time and
gave to topside friends, gave
above, took shearings with cord, which
markings are startling, poured
rock raising breaks in
landcape, in the notices
of camp dialogue, with dawn
piping, which forms morning, which
indicates the presence of
serious investigation, which is nice
nice, it is the farm, if we are
children, and goats jump from
simple surfaces, to tighten
a last embolism of the sport
responsible for the test, to
adapt the nation to
its contracts, which
empties the goats
without danger for the
love of the picture: our
literature, we registered but can be
reduced to splinters to set things
on, our savour of the dreamed
ready for child's play, on the way Fort
Detroit falls beautifully, Baghdad
is a date, a friend with whom we
the documents of math or myth
hesitate in fame's
point, approximate
values of Senate and
Congress are
developed by
university, get to the
detail of the new house, which
is poetry with detail word and used
parts and typical nuance, the
measured value of poetry burs
another line then
strongly downward into
books, shift again

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Thomas the Rhymer Smokes Reefer 

the old Fort Detroit will go again. choice remains a dog. meanwhile, the Dien Bien Phu looks like a truck stopping closely to the point of document. the aliens align with a certitude worthy of stars. we've got rocks in our truck, and trucks finish dates. dates lose preamble just by station. each station, that is, presents a paper of rendering. hangman looks like a topic sentence when hesitation lets something loose. looser, that is. the hangman finds a wedge by which to enter the sentence. we are worth our words, someone says, and lets poetry read along. poetry checks with Gertrude, who has taught the people something perfectly stunning along the riverbed. we follow alongingly.

Fort Detroit needed a natural nation of conflicted reason close to the river and possible escape a type of sentence for everyone. in Dien Bien Phu, large quaint structure turned on a dime, and the dime lifted its head, and the head merged to the point, where people died or talked a lot. there's never enough of too much, on the scams lately rented. today is a consultation when the wires click, and spark loves us. we've woven another gestural tremendous. bombs come after. regnant report flusters each auditor, which drives the aliens batty. they've been keeping score, in a rough, stupid way.

resolution comes at a price, like feigning lustre. we have command points at hand, along with a travelogue and jury. we have hands on training, unlike the aliens. we've said we are together, like a lowering poem. the gamble stings. so does the imputation of sentence structure when My Lai proves so caustic. history lessons make great beds. loam fits a pattern for somewhat research. poetry has been lofty hazard at scattered times and along the board meeting notes. forward patience touches an extreme star blaze tuneful reliance and scuppered squaring. id est is the remainder. Bush as president is the logical chopping block.

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Friday, October 31, 2003

trees take time but no exists measure like the present. there are chambers full of green and red, with blue an exceptional and yellow goes till dawn by raided interest. we slobber on the rich tune that provokes ballad. the nation was a little village once, and the nation was unbelievable El Mozote. the nation was something beyond the telling, and we've all been there. our universe is indeed communal, with dogs and cats dropping in errantly, and the race to space leaves us frantic for good fiction. caress, the name of blasted words as we settle old scores. caress, the speech that wakes the 'dead'. some creampuff poet writes something tilting and polite, and it's just another age in sand. presently, like the stubborn trees, a good dead song will carry the day. ah, Long Lankin, such a formidable presence in the stoning church. we all live for the stoning church and tower, united flip flop in the collegiate Congress, smell and all. trees take on aliens with a subtle language and the lumpy season fashion show. like snow falling into blisters, like leaves eating the increments of night, like a flying saucer family going to and fro. the outright play of sparks and finding, continuing in dump and mark. the trail goes to the valley where we’ll eat CIA and damage. there's a special tradition called horror, the place, the means, the movement. the front passes.

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hearin' West Virginia 

relief is a page system and here is the jungle. spooks prevail, reworking dialogue. sudden Iraqi turn, the infolding makes more: hidden ultra control post. how is it national, in plates of strong dealing? the word shaft flings, and big sentence structure conquers in mites. minutes, too, are piercingly natural, like slay the dragon contest, in ports near your town. then range finding language fills up distance for a natural world. your turn provokes my turn, as everyone sits in. robust beat, and harmony swells over the horizon. now that's a tsunami, register as such. register also as made, with a bomb expert sternness. cheap autumn colours and cheap autumn chill and bury the dead. the dead can dance, as is said, but we aren't supplied merry for this sentence. thus sentence is as new as vacation: you know what that means. the Vatican remains sullen, wanting the Lord's Prayer back in the worst way. invention: the worst way. but hope exists, or grass, or a piper at dawn filling up a rostrum. something strums the native inheritance, which is jungle fever, villagers ready to defend. the vote soon will collapse, your favourite ready as any. collapse is the political party. give in tones have harmonic havoc to play in rich earth or we go home. home like a flint struck. the sentence is a state.

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Thursday, October 30, 2003

aliens never at rest in the thud making machine. never beyond extent in force upon force, telling stories and lifting stones. a cup of coffee survives crazy night, sits upon dawn. this is Walden Pond, electrified as was keenly wished. you can take the Pond with you, turning years over to lovestruck. you can finish the sentence you began, coaxing bright went to the street. even a street can find Walden Pond. the people have placed an X, made certitude. language was a leaf from a book. the book floated beautifully, uselessness is that startling, a stone's throw and more from the shore. the daily train bumbles by, it is the place of schedule. russet fields and coping. the aliens nurture frequent changes in the light. how human to love, intuits someone. guardians surround the Pond, called trees or prison guards or fences or someone. nothing more immemorial than places lined up in the mind. here Skip Spence is buried. anybody else? all the famous floating materials. Emily Dickinson dies with hammer in hand. the aliens invent watches, a new kind of instant. the Pond wants more Boston haphazard. Route 2 is a beautiful cynosure. Emerson Hospital is up Route 2 a piece. over to yonder is whatever you'd like to remember. local seems left over from somewhere, up to a point.

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Wednesday, October 29, 2003

the aliens said, spelling ends today. we were scared to brain. what if these hyper-intelligent creatures saw into time one word at a time? could they do that? we looked at each other as one conjoined disturbance reliving the fear of something that could be. is poetry about to become final? are there days when dreams are further than words, but then words make a come back? 'holy cow' was one of the expressions someone used in the face of all that. other comments flourished too, but they cannot currently be remembered. the aliens want our spelling was the universal suspicion. and after that, no doubt, the space between words. that space is fucking wonderful, someone stalwartly declared, and we have to keep it ours. we all cheered such forthright intent, it sounded rich and good. and we all, we realized and determined, had to get down to business.

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poli sigh 

dogging detail down the street and peeing on a hyrant then march to a tax haven call for a friend who wears green pants or something so luscious of colour that tax programs melt then demonstrate where equivocal gets its funding and who puts the hydrants where to fulfil the necessities of some not all in Star Trek you can believe that day will bring cunning to fruition

alien hang time places wreathes on gravesites you could wish loss were redeemable or blessed for quality in the less than fullness of time but instead live in the tour across universe and the gap that sentences make

I wish I had said that someone imputes or pours out of a pitcher lumpen excellence among your neighbours or the broom that sweeps the floor

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Tuesday, October 28, 2003

here's the raygun you mentioned, said one voice, testing the waters. the raygun was sleek, as you'd expect. years passed into dimes, and courage looked for work. the nation was invented in language, framed just so. when the aliens ran ahead of us, inventing rayguns and such, we could only terminate. a period, that is, that finalizes the sentence's 'thought'. we have much to say, we think we should say. and if the raygun is like a president, with all jokes intact, can we go home lately? driven to a peak, told something new, rising to the occasion, and look: the Democrats, whoever they are, caved in at the first chance. nations are built on pudding. rayguns regulate the flow of pudding . the test of rayguns is a response to world crises, or pudding. after a hard day, you want your raygun and your pudding. when there are vowels placed where consonants should be, rise to clamourous archaic great news! the peace of fronting in the very word choice left behind. all together, friction. the test begets firm resolution regarding narrative implant, rayguns and pudding. curious.

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shore note 

crystallized and perhaps, set for a work that would crowd given from the page. the work collides with what was doing at that moment but couldn't be avoided. someone writes of something, and that changes in a brief. concentration fills inception with corporate quietude. look how the pieces fit. Bank of America buys Fleet Bank donation. new world whatsis caulks another crack. and this bonanza is all or almost, looks over our shoulder as we read. cuddled in the proxy fight or whatever effort, heard the tune. maybe no one's reefer is the best. Bao Dai is very French.

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alien report 

the birth of the republic gem was strong mode for reasoning

people were fetched from the edge and stayed awake for the long season at home

they tried to continue in sentences

nothing changed the right of springing, such being the easement needed as terrific spawns another little lake

what has the question betrayed while drawing straight liens?

people aren't as given

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Monday, October 27, 2003

botch prob 

well-traveled divergence meets positron language, secret agent talk. effort of poesis ramifies towards 'the centre'. go toward the light, workers of the whirled. the field starts with some words, okay? then poet function, right? then news as noise, or vice versa. present? there's always 'time'. shouting counts too. aliens are effective Spicer probes. you've been reading, luscious! we're all angels or selected. eventually community touch makes seer of all. all went, dumped in backwater effect, the ladder we articulate. those people are years ago, and the crying doesn't hurt. wilderness hurts when time is right. language jet scores the sky. the jet lands on perfect pillage. language guard doesn't endear exactly, but with feints. envious liaissons practice for the final. they want masterstroke. they want language in their head, without copies filtered to the best. they want what is selected. music isn't easy. it is a frame dunning program, chivying vanguard before which species lands a turd. coven for a while.

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intense as degrees weigh in grey clouds, sapping clotheslines full of something thought about, time theory radiating renaissance, gathers steams for once, the many that are left refer to moments lasting until time, time itself rewards nodes on the same sphere, purposeful quiet in droplets, all that is wet will someday be dry,

Gulf of Tonkin Resolution reads like fill in the blank, reads like autumn sunset like cat cry like crud and dearth patiently like examine like fairest like mango song like bagpipe at dawn like suds and flop, affirmation cycling in one piece of legislative rundown, to the edge of the pier and flood means,

race to grey, inside throb pulls Gulf of Tonkin event, anything sound familiar? the itch porter collapses,

ships of the line, of the arc and circling, in melt of ray toward lasting, remember Guns N Roses children at discounted rates


wiggle in this alien beat

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Sunday, October 26, 2003

anything you'd like to try 

1) young craning rematch

2) business end theme from the bottom

3) banter scanning buy

4) plough grommet tendency

5) sheer aptly apply in strike mode paying

6) daubing poet habitant

7) steak-sized severance

8) yet years

9) ton poem

10) moody brink debating

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ontology defibrillation course stems dabbing while worth poets start conquer nameplate. buttonhole stymie moves loopy particles for sending drastic tang. fight on poet fever street, oblate speaking balloon that hauls off and... Jersey shore distance typical of all distances. saturated rating squad typical of rating squads. movement of peace movement typical of peace movement. shameful Princess Diana, the match struck gold. portions were recorded. snap tosses the switches, the safety of muttering. in bonds of the clearing, in which in a language typical of language the speakers were ready to haze. in a verity there were rafts. afloat as easy as the ocean allows, Jersey shore or any other, memory comes thru clean. there were people there. there were people in West Virginia. there was new American poetry. that people are lined up is not enough. scratches on the wall are not enough. pressed to advantage typical of advantage is not enough. real rockets roam past sentries.

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