Monday, June 30, 2008

How To Be Lazy Writing About Poetics

As ridiculous as the dream where Rowdy Roddy Piper is telling Robert Creeley to stop making friends.

Into feelings burgled without and not-in the bounds of your Grandma's depression. Builds bleek food conspiracies into hovelable cock-eyed clinching fingers.

A man stood a bison or weathering his top-spin of simpression. Dupression. Synechdotion.

Happy birthday envelope.

Cold climbing down through a gender specificity.

Joints pooling there corners and curlicues and trying pass on the traditions of haberdashery.

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