This must be my day for compliments. But not from everyone. While this incident is tragic and unfortunate, I’m not to blame, for all poetry lives a hermit lifestyle and does not communicate with family or anyone else. To manage such a realization, the dog, like a tiny Renoir, went into the fire of its own accord. If this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, well, you’re not looking at it right.

What's happening in your book now?

NEVER FORGET.

To they that flood like men stupid and amazed, I raise a thimble full of bad brandy and say, “Okay: you win! You win! Midnight should come with a trigger warning, and randoms are my best friends.”

get rid of them/what am i doing here

williamsburg, va

That beep? It’s in a slightly different key. She detected it, and she was sorry, having let down a flock of seagulls and extracted their souls. Now she worries that she will lose the actual soundtrack, something you prepared when you got (or had) her back.

My sessions were interminable. Taking out a knife from my bag might have made the time go faster.

From Knnth

In this kind-of broken state, it takes a long time to boot up. Amid such fooling around, all the songs in his head were squeezed out of him onto the seat next to me in the car. I don’t know how but maybe just the force of the impact opened it up. Everything seems fine, but what you had captured— the password, the usb, accumulated mailings, the battery, the reinstall— shall be removed from the public sidewalks by 12:00 noon.

What's happening in your book now?

there we are

Tone, cunt, tone:
your tone is awful.

Sometimes you cut the cord and
sometimes the cord is cut for you.

I fail'd merrily forward for several Days. Then here’s where we get into master and slave—Hegel, a cat of great confidence whose strong sense of self-worth was never in the least threatened by the sudden appearance of the Devil. Or Hunger. Am I punished? For not caring at all?

What's happening in your book now?

1. We find ourselves slumped in the capsule, held up by the entitlement of the elderly. Had we ridden the metro, we would not now face the settlers, their unintentional dicks buckled over in the snow.
2. They offer half orders? That's what we should have gotten.
3. Another low-level crisis past, we proceed but are afraid that our habits may soon harden into cantankerousness-- like astronauts in period dress, fobbing off stones into and out of ureters. geocaching to do anything at all. and playing at sleeping.

Fabric, Hindenburg

older
older
older
older
older
older
older

What's happening in your book now?

fern bar: beautiful risks in film, tethered then discharged.

cigar bar: you are rich-- can’t you just succeed on your own, honestly?

gay bar: it’s constant, comfortable turnover.

iron bar: pop history, more of a calculated local thing, millennial technology.

chocolate bar: broken, discreetly pulled out my battery.

sandbar: all the snow that started to accumulate during the difficult hours.

Everything you do makes it harder.