messages buried fate preparing a hangover,
forgot to sleep whenever she got back
cut-up no. seven
repertoire of expressions
find something to puzzle over
one last look
no need to apologize
cut-up no. nineteen
lap-sense of a
goofy, thickly wooded road–
peace in chaos
on the floor, purring
cut-up no. eleven
debris power station,
cordial mendicants,
pancakes, and fruit parfaits
cut-up no. eight
days as a sliver
thick clouds, green little peace lily
always in motion
always the same
cut-up no. six
I always thought I would come back
to the devolving mode
I was wondering over the intervening century’s
flickering candle flame
sensory experience surrounds
short, cropped hair
cut-up no. fifteen
the impression of breadth
hand-described the inclination towards nothingness
in paradox lust
cut-up no. eighteen
eating weather whenever
cactus water potions
mystery circles
studies plateau.
pump the breaks!
confusion is a must–
fences remember
dangerous
grapefruit
cut-up no. four
the raised dominant turns back to its original form
a convenience-sake view of prevailing world conditions, events, and existence in general–
he looked like a mechanical engineer
direct, intuitive insight into transcendental truth beyond all intellectual conception
cut-up no. two
you never wanted things to begin with
the third inversion, with the seventh in the bass
all things are impermanent
what if I, myself asked you
if shuffling is not impeded by drinking