Sunday, 6 April 2014

91. Play You at the Objects, Maybe; or, Most of the Right Words, But Not Necessarily in the Right Order

All this silver montage
- won’t you meet the detritus of Sawney’s Hallowe’en
not now the town of luscious emergence?

Light & each
it can’t crash at to this crunch
& empty into blunder
into this stone material

. . . just glowing
then we end
& hopeful we

Life should hear nostra
- louder here the feast
of la rapid vestigiale

All la guilty terrain than the old muck: the pudding-stones broken

Everything of maledizione where somehow
a golden obelisk of built p

“What we stop a positività comes this passage in dilapidation of what stop at this, the speranza of the coming moraines to present, the collapsing of relations on justice, is continuing.”
Constant (broken), odd real

La cave & this head
- splintered of institutions & nostra city
on riverine Hejinian & footsteps
noisy, disordered children out

Most angels’ blink insieme tinklings
- occurring unstable & shaken so

But you point but our thing
e ‘ll 373 things call?

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