champ d'action

you what you how you this you dis

she spells the words wake up by
following the curve of my neck
with her hand it's tender but still

it says wake up (Wachet Auf für five Fingers
and an Original Thomas Pynchon Knive)

wake up sweating trying to define
the pome's poeming as a skein of trajectories
through lexical spaces driven on by x number of

particle-emitters öder bat-sucking vidanges
öder angel-throwing combe-busters all flame
all fluid all igniting the full full unawareness of

innocent air
- its innocence is popal, phishing religion
as pollution or whichever way the toxic
wants your health to be ruined/furthered
into gain today - angles of any things

barking in your face there's a different angle
to everything - another one
throwing their love
spit zero spelling dot belong
be long dot to me com e g
will it ever
end no it will
never end at
the other side
of end is more end
to end-angle
the beyond-end

a sense of my own::
senseo anullment
the Raphaelic
transfiguratio
of ation

another cup of coffee well bent
along the curvature of milla's way

a lustfull glide into the blue
of the holy lagoon
its every fish a tiny mother mary
and a coconut treebulging with
darling jihad
martyrs to fahall on your ead
and prickly your throngthrall
oh so oh rhythmically

ma drid
ma 2 towers
ma ma
mu mm y

the para-nautica
of preservation
the latest gush of the
ungry young scientists convention
hitting the natives
where they haven't been hit yet

what's your set oh i havent been

bang on the head
wide open go the kneecaps
anywhere the juice can be extracted from

but but but the end is
always nearer to
the ear
so

singa song uvluv instead
o how i loooove ur pome
its sweatness the cool
orror of the orribul
the stench of liberation
liberating the
sungs of the lust minds

we're all
back to squaring circles
high above the liber libelli
waving a surf plank
as an excuse
sorry i can't hitya
i gotta be

running to get
nitting

all to gather in the now wow
the raw war of nowhere
the fractal fjord of
posting spotting posting

please join us in the jouissance
of the latest Parisian vomitteuses
accomponied by da composor
signeur da Capo
itself

all ants nitting
in the same worldwide
nitting-factory
of ant-i- code

oh but the languishing
oh but the suffering
oh but the ear's
the ana annihil inhalator
of tradition running backwards
mr literator herself:

the golden boygirlswamp of emptiness
angling his it into her it into its it

und
out
goes the
ice
again

so
the ego's a magnum
its chocalate's thin

wide wide
thin
wide
wei

in fact all that remains's a wound
hurting itself the inscription inscribing
itself into
the champ d'action
in fact

concealing con ceeling
the zelig zalige virtual
an area

the de-
ter
ter
terri
torial a f***
no way i can pronounce that
word before the noun of noon

where all the dying
outbalances the ones past
dying

the zero zone of this i own
the cobweb's all by me the spider's
gone i set them free but here you are
be welco welco welcome
to my pleasure

dome toy re ry


[untsoweiter]