Land A Lake Run Off


Nonexistence is, Pluriparty thinks, a sorcery for “immunity.”

Pluri vs the nonexistence thing. Too full, Miss Many Penny. Therefore, no one home.

No worries, Pluri announces, no one home.

Up worms squirms with alarum turns — declarations of nonexistence, to wrap up the pain in a Buddha thing — so arrows have nowhere to catch — and it goes “straight thru.”

Blood still flows — but writing finds buoyancy?

Love to write, but that’s not a decision really — it is just something I have do. I write to write — to work it thru, to figure out: what the hell.

Why continue to wage word with figuring out absurd. Absurd comes from surd — french for deaf? But then it cross wovened methinks with a Greek concept surd, a number word for “the irrational.” What can not be solved “absolutely.”

Hence, the absurd.

Laurel and Hardy

Except with “what works.” To get as close as you can to figuring the “imaginary part” in the “extraction of root.”

And a lass, “another fine mess” have gotten “the vous voyer” into —

Insta got lit up with a new Muse Seem wing of Char — Litter Bug & Firefly. For months upon months, at first it was fairly calcul, but after the “free writing” river of flowage had begun to exspanned, (which still consider above all else — lovely) full steam to my head (serious poe loot, for me anyway) —

Hungry Bear for it immediately woke up and began falling flotsam and jetsam face first into free writing! No ai for Mia, dunno how, it’s all free writing.

Free writing captures thoughts as syllables and a break down of word into sign. Its a gas. Cone head in link slink and sync for fat box of bleat — “running with bunny” for Luau — top to bottom — what time you got! Bunny finds! and falls through — like a beaching it whale bail scale fail nail hail sail rail — for car, bar, char. Rhythm and rhyme imposes itself on me.

And I just get out of the way anymore and let it. Because thats what my bunnies do.

Whatever the “nothing” it has turned out to be — it still remains for me a repetition of “sorts,” much like my first trip through “Kansas,” searching for Hotel William —

Input was balm illinition — the friction of a surface to facilitate absorption of an ointment, and scars epulotic — healing of a wound otherwise than by first intention.

Wily sin sweet bomblets for Haley and the Impotents? Yes there is a “sure” thing called vigorite?

Crunch a bunch

Poetrys plunder bunny bobs in rhyme amid the art of reflection. And some of it, always seems to find inside of me an ugly rotter — whose ambivalence/resilience allures/demurs and defiles.

There is a thirst there for discovery. But also something enchanted, indulged, misguided by urgencies to come “to terms” with existence and to purge that existence, arise, vanish, contain, squander? Plunder bunny is also squander bunny battling amid a strife of sublime —

The Scary Sane

Latest twist is called  Rabies and Balm Balms — wtf why ??

Why turn something that had beauty, into essences rabid and balmy.

Madness, it turns out, was a part of the fetch, the need to go after something — as had both cosmically and abysmally (however much anyone wanted to marry me) come to believe that madness — was the only true freedom left.

Researching this issue.

To be continued

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