a woman in the process of remembrance takes to strance // after a moment, after a hibrous filagint of utterfold certainty, something reholds to the forces of its nature: & it makes strife, makes a billied mentross of a sansulgate letterance, & withwields all it tempered or belomes to regret // i will, i must, i can, i should — but i have been nothing, have been empty of exigence all along // such exhaustive cleverness resoles, deshiffingly, amidst all the perlecembrance of a fiendish for gutte, the reel of splendours undreshaggingly elwich, mis-sought: & so you told me to forget what i had hitherto known, what i had taken at the gate as the sake of onening // auh trask, auh caliptranther, being the one reclosed for the fault of slinging or the triers of regret, you eat your migoreng, joust song-gloss & the gilded aftermath of spunksac regress, & in the pillowed embauer of an absolute cresents feel mellowly out i’the aught of ever // but time is treeshaped & fruitfangled // so you grew heary in eagreity to telegrast this minute: you gave me mast, gave me treath, & a legion of serryreft // & i won’t be yours, i will only be whole (or wholly that of another fold) //


all the sting is in the mingling with the past, the undotted I, the cross unstruck with the predicative shard of future truths, that threat of horizontal finaling // upon a rhomb reflecting centrifuge: the zone deluging & the stains of the base snareful, catchlimbed fretters, having corinthogated the perusive fissures // but of the surfeit, uncertain, and with indelecibly lipsogenuous floundering, a whisper: samesame, differentdifferent, you-me as a crossmancled modulation of the moOooOaan (ohyes ohyes, laying deep&down dear, deep&down, lay me down deadinyoursheets loverlover) shielding/yielding mneumonic lapse // ha, & the incessant creak of a faraway door someplace, grave murder plots forecast to sustain the silent fumes of linen and squalls of shared saliva, good one // oh audley, the swansong sangfroid furls neflectlessly away: the dux harrow, the thrushcross tempest hailing through my heart: wild nights are these, wild night with thee! // horizontal, letting free the floating thoughts that flush through the bloodstream to the crivening cortex (scum sometimes, dontcha know, rises to the top) // these suggestions are sanguine & so often merry, combing your perceptual skin perimeters for traces of the little dead centre, as though your circulation ties capillaries round my throat // to frame this, to reprivise and perexemplicate, not even an occurrence that hasn’t yet popped in my head, for the line from here to there is never a slate rine, &  i/you am/are lost in your/my eyes //


these sublime negotiations so rosy & so close, encircling & suckling the thrilling hortex of your unclosure — all a-perching the firsmirking pricajoling languiscest, & even the furrowed molecules are prelustrous & dispexamined as the manticles tenticulately drop to zero // wen mirking overhead, heedless, the approaching meridian aspex, the radiant cope of celestial visions in the peeling ceiling overhead acceding to the nous in ragged unfurling flux, the middle preasserting plosive generative presence: this chaos, crossflecked and redrimmed, your tiny toe triptrenching my anklebolt, & how throning now & how displerished the sternum, the carmine anodyne indulging the kore, & how proud the diametrace-waist backstroked against whose whose whose roman digit! // pallyprat & paisley senslations, hitherto drenchkissed & malcrussing, the febrile venticrux dilates & sags plasmatically // the promissory token in the beacons of delight, afare ilayding everything, the boughs discommunicating from the sturton crattle: of earthenware immensity, the sparroful gravity of every moment; the moment itself, the effervascillating present, where is its object? & what is its parentage? //


the negative space dissolving: flocket puff, or vertigenous anomalies assuming incendiary volubility, expositing squalid splendours & impastoed peristaltic cunning along the larkasite midges, abreast those cuttlebone morsels of lipstains planted // ay, invoke-ah wha? tenderness — the summonses plackering out from the macquarie leisures of a spent bed — a misremembered head of silver streaked sand dunes, empillowed or disembowered across the threadbare suggestion of a perfect navel, pastured amidst flesh tilled and grazed in time well spent, the integral cavity conjoined, by conjugating connubials, pegged literally to chiasmic vertices amidst the pretty perdition of bipedal limbs // a body neither one, nor two, nor neither, nor both // the furpling miscellany incorruptibly abrupt as your tongue slips into my navel, or navel encloses tongue: one points, engendered, to the I of the Other, & hitherto all the cavities foreclosed malabruptly, misadroitanthropical & highly strungout stripesuited tenderly ablissed leghair lining (when no sylvanifiscent mellifluosity shugs) — serender, serender, er, oh // the tendrils of your smile are broderie anglaise bites on  my fingers // the merbling vox unshakeably smatters, the shadows mavericking asheathe, flouting seablindly the shores of chaos, the unctuous sludge of your hairdo winnowing out like a fan with my anointing touch, & the here & now neither to pursue, nor be pursued, but a perusal & pursing of lips beneath the cheek: so all my cryptical faculties recede as seconds in flux //


hyper-rama-rama o rama, demi snapple sways in space defrowexingly lordinate, endiorphicon remaining otherwise unhardened (& whose listening organs remain in dissociative flux with the hijack flack neatherdroll) // you believe in surreal true blue ferene fucking nothing, & i call bullshit on you homie, i figger that’s a fundamental lack of emoticron sincerity, & that increlating backhazardly i amiss to say i fucking owned it, i fucking owned ya, i fucking saw this, i fucking threw ya // but this is all traplacks, laisyderawvish exercises always half-undone, & i knew all that was (hens forth) to befall me: that it would all be done for love, that it would offrend froes of myself to the vice of another, & that the wexfield duncecraps would ultimately deplete the erks of problod breeding // another feedmonger fangles dentrestride of a deckchair, the pettid rancour that earths one into a fold of imaginary canker gives itself to its own decreaving sans iotopic satisfaction // taken under, riding slow, waiting for you // & i grow with dots untrossed to the mettled eye, the spot clandishing inamidst the varicolour faces of prewdementary sorrow // i am comfortable with all the nothing of this //


i wanna stay at home i wanna stay out, zayd sung, & of consequence to the palbricht heraldry was the fact of drizzle, a propos of which the toilet whinged & almandine tortilations rendered taut to a certain corpulence // visitations from the deep are accompanied by proofs of the absurd // septosensual riddums become undently receprotive in the current state of clime, so in a journey of angrofacture & ultimate surmise, the quality of endromachy itself is governed by the perseculations of varicose ventures (that teeple, that streep & whincle, from behind demi-doors) // the mind cannot understand shades of feeling, gurdjieff said through the pen of ouspensky, & in type i resolve to capitalise, repeating: THE MIND CANNOT UNDERSTAND SHADES OF FEELING // now you penetrate me, as in my dream of beestings; & swollen & weltering from the depths of it all, i create a situation which i cannot (forthelifeofme, fortheloveofgod) control // the pisky acid fixed against the rim of his drolossy & sclimastic ab(sowhat)lution, this is what i meant by the terms of listening, the insertion of new meaning in the work of (arr)ears & error // once i was then, & here i am now: no further queries, please, & make not a narrative of the absolute presence of this new life //


the contrapuntal (popist) plotpoint for a new technique, & an era of sliding fifthwishes streaming through the songs of face // to all those who have loved, who have seen love shine through, i in the belly of the whitbred devil do envy, envy, envy you // once a pillarfull of moments desultrily slated, i managed yet to sequitermine & defrone the lengths of endemic selfraxolint: my honour is my duty, & the tenure i defret & sangsqueamishly infect is the very dark material from which the shadow was cast (ink, sinkhole, the hailstone throne of a plastic pacific) // the demimondish tremble, waiting for the whims to tracate // the medicine itself is a splendid minefield, one which i dilly & dither to prepossess in the slattern maxecution of the second(s) thinly veiled // apart from the streamers, the tickets were miasmically thrown as a cakehorse inches into town // or the mistle giving whisper, perhaps unspecularishly garish as it sloamed, as it withered on the bough, as the languor fiendishly drips into silence, so scrultimely it gave a misper of sergei’s suggestion rolling into pale, & whatever else was left thereafter turned out to be the antedegenerate scrawl left swirling on your face //