Practical hats and shoes. Industrial carpet. Fog. No children. Southern Chinese. Leg exercises. Men in oxfords. Liberal businessmen. Other times I've been here, through there.

The next station is the battlefield of Troy
It is the birthplace of Mao
It is the field where Armageddon was.
Imagine! There was something before this.
And this. I am in a forest academy. The groves
were God's first temples etc. "The vivid stamp
of personal mystical experience."

We usually

Everyday wake up before we want to and

nausea gratitude

for dreams--- anxiety processed. It's still dark.

Wake up for abstract things.

Head. Feet. But we're awake

and no beloved woke us up.

Hugs which avoid direct breast contact, how my favorite people encourage a kind of social weirdness in me. Strong feelings of being a turnip.

When you leave your bearable job and intelligent, creative, attractive lover, remember that there really isn't anything better than this. This is all that there is, always.

It's important to not believe in a lamp burning for you or anyone in a window somewhere.

I know that no one will call me home.

The male finch notes us and calls to the hatchlings. You're a car and I'm a goat. He pauses. A child is a strange thing to want. That's a nice person, we don't say that. I told my students the joke about the chicken and the road, and they stared at me. "I see," said one. "The question is strange but the answer is serious. It is funny."

"Oh, Hi!" he said, happy and startled. Then, he stared into ceiling space without speaking.

I introduced myself to the woman next to me. "Hello," I said enthusiastically. "I am likely to never see you again."

The wealthy community by the sea is far enough off the highway to be difficult to get to but still defined by the highway.

I ask if they have any mastic. Mastic, she says, is an Arabic thing. I say yes, I know, I want to use it in pudding, and you have a sign that says "Yes! We have MASTIC!"

Mention the rain. Your carnations are probably from around here. A cousin of your friend was shot in the head by her boyfriend. That reminds me of someone I knew from Maine.

Universities don't create communities, Lorraine.

She wants her daughter to look good, too.

Sometimes I think I can hear the waves from here, Mark says. I can hear them, I say, and we both write some version of the dialogue in our note books.

I was doing a fine job impersonating
your sister or your brother, and I
blend in well with others, except that
you noticed I was slightly weird
and have oddly unfocused, dreamy
eyes.

You had no choice, you thought about
how you used to never get sick and how
you used to communicate with everything.

You miss the lake you used to roll up
and unroll, depending on your needs.

Another fallen angel whose primary interest is
in stealing women.

Also, he's tall and lives in a cave.

Men lock up their wives in windowless
rooms, but he abducts them anyway.
Or, men take their wives to him hoping
he'll steal them. Some women might
have gone to him on their own.

The cool kids watched The Crow,
excited about rape, revenge, and death.
"We are going to rape you now," my
friends said. Then they picked me up
and carried me from the kitchen to
the living room, where we ate popcorn.

I want a world in which my love for Lester the parrot could be more central.

That we have worked hard
to have a personal style. Listen
to your voice and say "Oh my God.
That's my voice."

You should cry now.

Because I slipped in the bathtub.
And couldn't find my mic.
It was exciting. And confusing.

I’m not having any feelings

I say, "I’m having trouble feeling grateful for my injured hamstring and I have great sex everyday with someone I love." I don’t really like to write about sex. I’m worried about the bees but I can’t plant a garden, but I talk about bees with everyone who has a garden. I see plenty of hummingbirds. I don’t like to write about sex, but I like to have sex. You all know, more or less, everything there is to know about my sex life. Maybe you would like to know more, I don’t know. Probably some of you would. The parrot who lives with me, Lester, enjoys eating chicken. Many of the chickens I’ve known enjoy eating chicken. I know well enough to know, I think, when he’s enjoying himself. However, I’ve never really known a chicken well, so I can’t really say completely whether or not the chickens I saw eating chicken enjoyed it. Lester also enjoys eating rice, quinoa, and most kinds of fish. I think I know what consciousness is, but consciousness is varied, doubtless. Just because we can’t experience something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I don’t know how Lester experiences his feelings, but he has them. Two words I haven’t used in a poem are jejune and ballast. I’m thinking about the footage of all those dolphins being slaughtered on the beach in Iki, Japan. I watched the first part of it and Mark said “don’t look” and I didn’t, but I’d already seen enough of it to know that it would become one of those images that I’d remember and obsess on forever, like a documentary on the Vietnam War that I saw in high school.

Yesterday I was feeling suicidal again at work, so I left at 1pm and headed home to hug the children.

I wrote on my door of madness, and instead of the robotic entheo-runes, out flowed natural, zen like calligraphic script!

I wrote a poem, which was quite long, about this house and it's dangers—I called it: Hamstring Figure Well Rats

Bike messengers, which I'll refer to artists, musicians and poets call it a lame cramp or calico cheerleader heaven on it's hands and knees. A tapping tired manly wind ignoring it's longing for rest sounds tenacious and erotic implant to me. Children become the strengths of our country and mommy drives a Ford pickup with muddy behavioral issues. All lingered and ended in a washy drag down mousey catcher with accessibility issues and sissy friendships that push teens through love with inner positive intentions as all have a priority, just months before we die, straighten our back, or repair a faulty internal organ when the lady is late and tired.

I remember the DVDs that comrade Caren lent me caused acute discomfort until the endorphins kick a pension plan and corporations like the culinary union. I'd like to know how to tend projects, how to start every week with a gentleman seized knife and cut conversion process to limp rubberband. I got up from the table and bailed—it was like the best day ever and I think we were more xcited about running away than creating images and collected sensations.

I hate exercise. I don't have enough money. I love.

The rest of the issues are too large, I think.

My favorite bible of bibulous behavior. Soundboard channels puff turbidly, entice logician ovoidal convertibility and burning misdemeanors: a good example of pain behavior and why those who don't drive in the dark meet the posts on lunges, wild geese, how laws designed to undergird workers rights now essentially hamstring them. You, only, will be read and developed and enhanced.

Lily was getting tired. I wish you would come back after you have dinner. The staff simply did not know who Lily was nor what her behavioral needs were. For me, the ruse. My tolerance grows thin for preventing such disgraces.

You could always attribute the wolves' atypical behavior to the influence of wolves

Categories: Love of husband, devotionals, political issues, Virgilian praise of the pastoral countryside. I am tired of being spoken to as if I were a traveling internet service. Believe me, Sir, never a night goes by be I ever so tired but I read the word of God. He has fought no issues or stood for any struggles he only took on the hate and fear mongering.

It would explain so much about my personality and my behavior too, my handsign translated as "person attack left rear." Friends, are you tired of the free-wheeling, undisciplined chaos of the non-poem, temporarily suspended due to moronic behavior on the part of behavioral-therapy and flow for the mindfulness program?

I'm bored with having my body stolen, so let us investigate.

We'll be waiting at the ranch

Turn Left at the Toyota dealership and
right at Del Taco.

I can do something else other than this
will for employment, unlike les bouges,
she says, laughing. You need a pass to the
Socialist conference, too. Use an adverb
to make your opinions less general,
that was in my other life; but I'm
worried about you--you're wearing
sweatpants and have a girlfriend.
It's a complex situation. Are the birds
singing? There's a man at the door with
a bucket of bony farm trout.

The monk came to the door, performed
his rites, and, somewhere underground in
a ruinous wine cellar, kissed and walled me up.

Adult Treats

All the dearest colors of the
rainbow bored with responses
to hormones. Talk about the
feral parrots left bike and boyfriend
not teenage love among young
people sick of slang for drugs.
Floral. I say do more now and "what
are you doing here?" Explain
everything with sports, everyone's
the same age until we speak.

I come home after the murder,
bodies dissolving in acid, babies
and puppies saved from Iraq.
THIS CHANNEL WILL RETURN SOON,
but we're draining brief. Saw my
first former student at a bar
not in DC or LA or New York.
I don't want to be rude, but.

Raised on the good news that's
always gone by the time we're
older. I believe again. Goodbye,
door! It's true, it's true, I'm
sure you think so. "Being

sarcastic is not nice," but it's
being blunt. I don't like most
rich people. My country gives

poor people money. My utopia
is a basketball court. Walking
to the mall along roads with no

sidewalks in the rain. My weekend
sucked, but I understand your
explanation. When did my language

stop sprawling? Wrack all over an
unusual beach, brain
recently removed like seaweed.

Biking through car country all
those people we love

and corn fields open
use land cares for other

strawberries and flowers.

It's boys against girls and
the girls know it but the

boys don't. I'm ready to
be punched. Here's my

flag. I'd care about my
neighbours. Bring them extra

squash.

Effective restroom use and
spring

peepers create feelings.

I don't understand spring in February.

Sensory deprivation tank--
where can I find one, Lorraine?
Human works, I don't

notice I love you, It's
productive.

These are the Six Factors in my Regression Analysis

I'm with security. Also, you might think I'm
potentially gay. Rock singers are often
short. Hug into your center. The bank
robbers have eyes that flow, cash box
is right. Man, if I were a man I'd never
say I was jealous, but I'm wary of
any rhetoric of hope--what's wrong with
you that you're hopeful. I believe in peace,
yes, but body type doesn't only matter
in sports. That's what I mean: the men
leap high, and I want to marry one.
I want to move to the city to feel
angry, sane, and safe (no more boyfriends
from the DOD). I won't last long.
I should have bombed the test,
been a better structuralist.

Love Sunday and trombone players, delirious
above-ground serenades, the in between dance
and next Sunday with flowers, heart through
March and into May. But someone has to
knock at the door sometime. Then, off to
the palace of the GrandeVisir, probably in
Afghanistan. My lover is Zero, once so happy
at the organ grinder. A vaguely erotic
dance with no men or only a man.
Kiss my bonnet. I'm dead

My Love Roderick Usher Part Deux

Son coeur on horseback, against original music
and complex stairways at odd angles, always in
a corsage and housecoat. Flying coffins make
me swoon, and the doorbell, dreaming when
I answer, all gloved and rugged, bodies
delicious and elongated. Multiply into dead
things, a geometric swoon, a stranger and
a chronic girl-in-wall. Hello, lover, I designed
myself myself, beat beat. And in the book I
find a breaking open. "Look," he says with flair.
Dead on dead.

There is a war and I helped. Swimming pool by the Euphrates. Anything can be genitalia. Sorry.

I've got big love

Wanted to say "innarested," like "you are
uptight"--that's a process.

Fine, bondage turns us on but I don't
want to chain myself up. That's not sexy

and self-immolation is a statement. And
this, details. I think words are a body,

obviously, and I don't have to get up
early tomorrow, but will. This conversation

makes me satisfyingly uncomfortable,
but someone else has to be here, listening,

ready to abduct us or something, ready
to skin me in high European tradition while

whispering words like litmus, liminal, abjection.

And the traffic. O! Le trafic!

Always, "What are you (men) afraid of? I am like a man, and first I read Nietzsche, read you quotes about cows. Every boy I ever loved read Will to Power after we broke up, loved Ginsberg and Kerouac--no, loved On the Road and Howl but not the writers. The smarter ones read the Surrealist Manifesto and maybe Nadja. Actually none of them read Nadja. I'm a naked ghost, but trying to sink through the floorboards is getting boring, and I'm done with following my lover out into the night, woods or no. The roads are so wide. And the traffic. O! Le trafic!

Tumors, de quoi tees vows (des homes) affray? Je sues come home, tabard je lies Nietzsche, and lug vows cite au suet des aches. Claque garcon jay jamie aimed la volute lee pour auctioneer après queue nous axons cases veers le haut, axons aimed Ginsberg et Kerouac -- le non, a aimed sure la route et l' horsemint mains pas les auteur. Les plus fêtes not lug le manifested peat ere le Najd surrealists. En fait acne deluxe no’s lug Najd. Je sues fandom nu, mains lessee de descended par les blanches deviant ennui you, je sues fait avec shiver moon amorous dehorns dams la unit, les bois our le none. Les routes sent is larges. Le traffic. O! Le traffique!

Always, of what are you (men) frightened? I am like a man, and initially I read Nietzsche, read quotes to you about the cows. Each boy I ever liked the will read to actuate after we broke to the top, liked Ginsberg and Kerouac -- not; liked on the road and the howl but not the authors. The smartest read the surrealist proclamation and perhaps Nadja. In fact none them read Nadja. I am a naked phantom, but the test to go down by the boards becomes tedious, and I am made with following in my love outside in the night, wood or not. The roads are so broad. And traffic. O! The traffic one!

Tudors, de quoi eats vogues (des homes) aver vogues affrays? Je suits comet homed, au commencement je list Nietzsche, list des citations à vogues au subject des vetches. Claques garcons jail zamias aimer la volunteer lie pour unclenches après queen nous nous swoons cusses jugs au discus, au Ginsberg aimer au Kerouac -- pas; aimer surd la route equestrians maims pas les auteur. Le plus fate a flu la proclamation pouts eyre le Nadia surrealists. En fait augur ails nay flu Nadia. Je suits fan tome nu, maims lessees à descanter par les congeals devein panicle, je suits fait avec skiver darns monk amour dehorn la units, bois ox pas. Les routes soot sin larges. le tragic. O! Le tragic un!!

Always, of what are you (men) you frightened? I am like a man, and at the beginning I read Nietzsche, read quotations with you about the cows. Each boy I ever liked the will read to engage after we broke with the top, liked Ginsberg and Kerouac -- not; liked on the road and the howl but not the authors. Smartest read the surrealist proclamation and perhaps Nadja. In fact no, they read Nadja. I am a naked phantom, but the test to be gone down by the councils becomes painful, and I am made with following in my love outside the night, drink or not. The roads are so broad. And traffic. O! Traffic one!!

Said we'd write a
---Where's my" Fog.
And unexpected sentence.
Congratulations!
Comp. Pile.

~

Defensive about open
heartjoy. Relax, you jerk.
Relax, baby. Purrr.

~

My body thinks short men are hot because they are easier to control. The response is adjective adjective.

I mean--ur a---respect----don't
Mamma's boy? Teacher? I know
nothing about cars. Kind of.
Stop touching me---this isn't cultural, it's
--
no. not anybody can play. Am I like a
woman to you?
--
The problem is family. Oochy coo etc.

Whatever you--

I don't understand the question

No what no!

Yes, thought so; as if your

head were a nut (picture)

your hobby (another picture)

conversely. Now you can get away.

~

Let's make mournful sounds together

tonite!

Blow it up

inside the brain you saw more brain

your irritating OM : shoulders in ear

opus; or new series 1 based on something

Nothing else is happening. No again. Award
winning romance with the now correct baseline.
I'm a woman in the correct marketing niche
at last, for dancing. Please dump your boyfriend
and move to LA, but I don't want to be like everyone
giving the beautiful pregnant woman advice--fall
in love with me and leave the suburbs. If you
can actually talk to men I'll talk to you. With.
Now I am a US Marshal listening to high-spirited
drunks. Like squirrels, we were yuppies at
a conference. Boom boom boom. We weren't
looking for jobs. We were looking for dinner music.

Your exported good cheer--teacher, a swimming pool
I love, proxima my home. Me too. Whine is like a funny
child the angry students ate, were eaten (by the President).
My advices are numerous and thank you. Everyday ribknife
undiagnosed wake. Like living in an ashram where all my
speech is pitter patter on the fireplace hearth rug. Stuck
art work. Better frozen. It was fine. It was great, actually.

The daily nausea and deadlines--I throw up less
often, love getting messages, tell me something
about hunger and sleep deprivation and recovering
from mysterious illnesses and the general malaise
of careful speech all day. What is an eggplant?
10 minutes. What is the correct response if you
don't know how you feel. I don't know how you
feel. Liar. Such as vibrant wanting to be loved
and independent, what to do with easy achievement.
I'm bored. Do a forward bend and do a forward bend.
Notice the obvious beauty of something in nature,
like a dragonfly! Inutile stamped on your forehead
--if the bureaucracy were your body, I guess the
nausea would be constant, my longing.

Or else, just tie me up so we can have really cliched rough sex against a wall and smash a light bulb.

Get a visa where people are smiling. "All in all
they are fashionable," like a prison. Please be quiet,
winningly mutters, says: yay! while eating gnocchi,
remembering induced wholeness, the man in
the hello kitty hat who wants to know what
you're doing later. You want to make a pretty box.
Say sex. That helps.

Get out of my space.

The earth's not boundless love. Or a she.

White woman connecting to the earth with drum.

You are an uptight jerk.

Idon'tknow I don't know ah whatever! Move
to the Arabian Peninsula, just don't get married,
don't crinkle plastic bags or climb the stairs,
desperate for courtship calls in the rain; then,
attack your surrogate lover / enemy. Attack
your food. Attack anything the same color as you.

Teenage waist land, teenage waitress--the legend
is true in every detail. A hero stalker song! Two
hot peppers, we eat excessive plates of mediocre
Italian and Chinese food, our normative guide to
culture. Of course, I don't know anything about
it in a direct way. Just the signs.

A world of pristine hotel service,
like a picnic blanket all the way
to the crest of the hill, laden with
retro food associated with lawn care
and carpet cleaning.

I thought it was my birth control but
it was "no mommy no" the flu. I signed
all the petitions except that one. He's my
neighbor and I know abut his failed love
life. My departmental manager fantasy
was lush and corpulent but not me,
finally, in spite of all the products we brought forth.

I love the ill.

No one clapped for the African man who won the marathon.

"I want to fuck you within the institution of marriage," he wrote.

I tried to ride around the policeman enforcing the road blocks, but he wasn't paying attention.

Take a picture of us kissing on top of the recycling containers.

Just take a picture, or whatever.

We need a prison to stimulate the local economy.

Say it: "I am rich."

Once, I felt like I wanted to talk about my feelings. I wanted to share my unique, personal story.

I've never loved like a team fan loves

Our team lost. No one drove into
the lagoon. One turns to the context
of motherhood. Oh, your narrow little
waists, oh, we think there's nothing
cooler than being pregnant. Tall lithe
self congratulation. Let's go to Hawaii
again. Let's remove all the coconuts so
no one can throw them at the police.

Some of the futures are hell

The blockades prevented us from getting to class. After all that, I wanted to be put away, but after all of your all that, you wanted everyone else to be put away--we had a dumb conversation about it on the roof top pool. "Can you say absent father," he'd sneered? Reading Marx, defending early 90s NOW marches--I think he was disappointed that you weren't in an orgy. Smarmy debates with trade union activists. I was dressed in my pajamas, and the sniper was dressed like a sniper.

I wore a visor

No one lives in their real estate and the public
all have children. Seeing double. Fantasy
of having once been funny. Artistic people
always wear scarves, she said.

Unpleasant things and possibility

What are you thinking of? Love--
California's cold inside and
I'm selling hard;
could make it but didn't you make
nothing so excitable? horoscope said we'd have
bright ideas. An outside heart
-- I mean be careful, love or else get
the torture started. I'm feeling my
cliches deeply and it's lethal.

We're freezing inside California but
Lester's bathing in his icy water
dish--he likes the yoga chant CD.
He's singing. There's too many empowering
moments of peace and love, too many
transcendent journeys raising ourselves.

No, I don't think so.

Fall. Spring. Love. Death. Feelings. It is interesting to note what is censored and what is not.

smack le lapin saute x 2

You are depressed. Of course no woman has ever made you happy.

In memory of your feelings, I thought
about them, your then unconscious
passive-aggressive aggression, you know,
I'd have loved you more if you'd been
married and unmarried, I've forgotten
all my characters. The wall to wall is
more than that: jump rope through
the floor and into the TV in the apt. below,
trying to be healthy.

Hail! Odd Spot!

Wow. It's baseball season in America.
Nevermind, but the shakti was pouring
out of me in the wrong direction. Did punk
ever really happen--I want to get grabbed on stage,
then abducted (from a baseball field)

~

I am cheerful when you have children, she advised.

~

Love a bonnet, a sling.

Mean This Rudely

Cheated on my sleep in the yes/no
hard questions, we were swimming,
confronted with capital and mediocrity
one must where more organic fibers,
cut back on yesterday's resonances.

Usually we talk about our overseas trips
like Italy forever. Romanian is like
Italian, and tolerance comes with age,

The More Vague

The problem is that your wife
didn't sleep with your X friend and
then your X boyfriend didn't have
a fling who liked it.

Excellence and leadership are good.

Today I learned value; punch
the TV; cry sensitively. Yearning

for TV children's boxing match,
stuffed airplanes.

Perfect Weather for Velor Leisure Suits

Somehow she gets mad. I never saw nothing.

They popped his head up----blond died blond.

Everyone wants to pet the tied up dog.

I Swear

"It was one of the best waves I ever saw"

They bang everybody.

Ever.

Yeah.

They did that exactly like smashing.

I don't blame

"That was one of the best games I ever saw"

The skits. Something to smell at every moment.
(He grew his beard at the end and
then)

I walked everyday. That was something.

"Give back the biscuit, baby."

Elongated limbs, for once, but the usual dry fingers and slight trouble inhaling and exhaling--I've been told that I should focus more on exhaling, and that this will make inhaling easier and more productive, but I wonder why I couldn't do the opposite and have it work just as well. The lungs can't fill up until they've been emptied and vice versa.

Sore calves--maybe from the hike in the Daley Ranch yesterday? My calves are rarely sore.

SoCal snowblindness
visible happiness & specialized dogs
she spoke Spanish at
Santa Fe train station

Are from

excessive satisfaction

"She's not really happy but" bruiser
Our team won. I saw one really good wave.
I can't really describe it.

Later
Later
Later. Doc.

Hauled out to see or bashed in.

Overwrought echo

her have some more love

ing danse de

Everyone receives greeting

broken

"It is broken" "Thank you!"

I want my retirement funds.

"Doesn't the hummingbird's aggression trouble you?"

Far away speaker phone undefined budget

I am reluctant to disclose my interests

You should not have hired a poet to do a poet's job. He said

The love affair was not an affair, only fashion--

When you stop talking about money I become uncomfortable.

Pirate ship fantasies! I've never loved someone
stupid. I am so smart. Backache sweatpants.

I said happy holidays and she said are you Jewish.
Then she said"what do you know about the 70s?"

California is the 70s. The lake is fake and
now it's polluted.

"Are you riding your bike because you drive
a big gas-guzzling SUV?" He asked. I said
"You are a bad flirt."

Peel off my skin, love,
you can start with my face.

Fuck the energetic young people.

Neighbourly excess fish No recognition
nothing formal more or less clothing

"He likes to work," she said, pouring
the wine into a decanter.

Apparently disposable grandparents.

A student sent me a link to her personal soft core porn site. I'm bragging--she sent it to the whole class.

People make stew Throw things at tigers

I'd rather role model for a parrot

I am vegetarian and would never eat

such things I leave all my money

to my son "Your parrot is like

a fireplace" The new year started

watery "Design is a passion" Surrender

to grace and mindfulness No day will

work: I don't want to see you

I want your financial problems

to be problems

I was upside down and I thought Hey Rod
you need something
a poem
fruit?

Tell me about your feelings then how
you're feeling like they're the
only ones
in the room

When I wrote this that's how it was
It was like that when I read it too

Baking
maybe turn off something
note
treesorchidshumminbbirdfeeder The balcony's
too low for an effective suicide

I don't want to be in my beloved's arms when I die

monkey brain story again it’s an honor

to smash and eat medieval plums from

Asia minor what to speak of at dinner

close your eyes and see visions – you just

have to see them sometimes delight in inhumane

eating perverse adherence to cultural norms

stop telling me the story explain to your

eight year old sister your twenty four year old

coworker babyboomer meltdown

howabout swallow chew watery reproduction

quit falling in love with me carve

an inverted chest to even deeper concaves make

snide pregnant comments I’m female

on purpose I like the dog don’t like

earthy assertions isn’t it brighter in here?

It’s great I said it was great