Starting with laughter
– why’s
never any of our patterning.
Need
neon and the delicious disordered:
David1 at dawn’d rebuild m.o.r.
aristocrats – alright, they seem barbecued now
a believable nothing: Sundays will
break the bones into constellations of summer:
Crash! Cross! Shine! Whatever
fucking entoptic now Sarah promises
poeticising her familiar. Need
is repetition
or kaka; no comment
this pudding fragments
– splash!
Suddenly smutty screaming – idealess
but alchemically Dynamic – OK like food
oh, or paper. A word. A world.
Disgust following – OK: the young
all starting off real but recursive
it’s a medium mess but fun, a bit