Day Tripper

12.3 Go Willingly Head feels slightly elephantitis. That big fat empty. This always happens when sit on edge of something that then isnt a dream anymore but a doing thing. The wayside pulls up, as mechanic was tinkering, and empties of my precious evil art upon the gnolls, where thirsty flows a sudden rinse again through the V for Vanishing. But no. But no — How freedoms here always seems to require that chancy bit of absence and transgression of it, the hungry, the loophole, wondrous morbillous backsliding — again for surface, where loves both indomitable and the rogue. And…


Sickness Intercedes

Eek Angels 12.14.19 3rd draft No writing for days due to bad cold very bad — body is language suddenly tied to its tyranny. All that beautiful flinging whole hog at rug beneath the waves — wattles of work and etudier — and cold slams me down into pills and pain and disdain for time. That ornery sublime, loaded down with body’s tyranny in bed with complaint. 💤— The curse of champ-on-bit whistles through derailing sickness — how the eye misses its foot — Beauty admissively lives in a ferocious presumption of rose and thorn, palpitant flare, rave grave romance,…


“word-storming in the name of beauty”

process of compiling