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(1)
The very wide word is porous,
ambulatory. This last instead of
that -- for which the I stands
for every leisure must . . .
first elect a person whose
world concepts I own. It's idiot
circles my globe. A doctor
or a body signals to draw teeth into
or cigars . . .
what had been a mouth
where holes are eyes
until the bag is closed
(2)
Rifle shooting
preserve of a crowds
combustion -- a skeletal museum
(pieces) back to the wall
I cannot agree hand to hand
in the seat of powers. That claim
of glory . . .
to milk the day's example
Nostrils that kill
a quiet green . . .
of what once sounds
the thousand loudest
If method feels the
pain button he roots for
the logic artillery shells
splice equilibrium as thick
(3)
If someone's speaking, hang up
On the threshold of ice, colors
I can't see. Understand, I am ready
Not glad. Rich gem-like (snowed over)
. . . is up or stares at
Knowing a smile turned to pause
Don't say without saving
If method is thrown to a swarm,
. . . the sticky till
Last month, he thought I was a corpse
Today, he is counting the money
I predict compassion slips on a flower
As a pronoun waits to become a noun
(4)
To map the terms -- strictures
. . . doubt remains
the goal (symptoms)
whose goods behave
Have no fear, hypothetical
men and women do not
phrase into phrases -- in short
to defeat us -- there is
a yes with all sympathies
. . . if you read
no recipe could be the opposite
so let that write me down
as messages map to forehead
that `I' is to the problem of form
as fluid is to the bottom
injecting a hand in . . .
what's lost
reading -- balancing
red lights against the volume
in years
(5)
Isolation must and can do
without the power to do it
We are thus impossible
even horrible to assume
a statue images left wherever
negative by descriptive ones -- subjects sold
to breed the agony that lack
reveals
Irreducible, the General
remains a long way off --
an admission slows to introduce
Wound,
I'd like you to meet
unliveables that help -- exhilaration
(by default) turn
another page
Game Theory
Truth anchors the all which
governs, but how illusion times
what sees and what if nothing does
better than it should. Is it better
to pull the seen fixation
or to mouth the skin whose chemicals shadow?
There are only so many piles of bricks --
only so many subjects too hurt to play.
Please tear the horizon into strips.
The phrase you are not reading
towers into the skin.
As quotation enters the city, nominal
traces disguise how it can be
within the walls of the museum.
If this ideal becomes your castle
any more-than-once can't go on
to translate its feel. One day,
it rained out of me. Rigorously incomplete.
A liar because he could not
and refused to write it down.
The answer was out of a need
to look up. No one sat beside her.
"Truce" one of them said . . . but
this could only lead to a false destination.
At first, rehearsals, then revisions.
One sees the sound before hearing
the page. Out of my face --
nerves are words without flesh.
It goes off, emitting paper,
framed in the motion that subscribes.
This definition of hurts narrows.
Forbidden because each had already arrived.
Almost too friendly, language is not.
One's English is wide to the left
of what writes me. Similar trees are
explained into cords of wood. The perimeter
covered in grass. A shrine to suburbia.
To loathe the path of someone seeking.
If stress blanks desire to acknowledge history's refusal,
then: words - lips = swamps.
But the correct answer was to presume.
It was her place to replace,
to weed the we's from the page,
to conquer nature's remarks.
The crowd has no prior page
where proper nouns figure music indicates
towers of response. They believe in a shadow
or the reunion of names. Played for,
by two men touching a guitar.
Silence paints my number in smaller circles
to enforce the look that thought brigades.
To head pain off, imagine one's lost.
The eyes in-different stones.
It's an unkind planet cooks its competition.
Each poet in a school hands up
to arrest what's behind her.
It's in the bag, but I can't find it.
Likewise, I can't see the building
for my thoughts. In fact, there are only facts.
The scenario of the other arrows
where flesh stands up to the French blinds.
What overt care withholds one's all-over-art.
Too free to exhibit employment,
out of the water is a shark where
honesty lists nothing in the world
which seems to say it figures.
Only Hegel's earplug stays to affront.
So, reader beware. One can't
hollywood instants to fashion time.
In better words, the body is no coincidence.
The sign said, let the feel send the.
Or we'll problem into reliving its somehow.
Even to get the entire opaque no answer.
Everything perishable instants -- good-bye.
© Robert Mittenthal
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