Hebrides

Why is it, how is it, with Antonia’s we amuse ourselves. Excerpt III: 

By right of morning, you remind us, every rose who ever was is of you.

Fugue Julie Manet

A year later basics, such as; 

Waterfall inseamed

While still we substitute for sun food remains white and black ? or beige

Colors ugh all wrong

Why will not my body rise to meet the beast of too much 

Time how to move when no move known

The way awaiting 

water in its way aglow

yet I, am not lit up the page for me not lit with 

Being told 

untold, I am certain in a future telling

Restless at vivisection

Vivisected? 

Some think the world lacking and I think the world plentiful

Plenty come to me here we cannot push off a day For

Plenty to come

Fifth Avenue

Seeing missing faces on wrong bodies. Of my own I can feel my cells eating themselves, gleeful. Rikki Ducornet on Robert Coover on Harry Mathews: It’s all singing all of it. Green shoes.

Flagons

And so, a second scroll. A lovely day releases (will it be? Will it Be?). Loving the day is day here worth tasting.

To sample the bread. The double bread. The bread that is not shame, written and oral and 

Green painting—peremptory promise.

I am careful not to promise. Some are not.

Promiscuities. Bring me, say you at my right, sunset in a cup. 

Longing for the sea, lifelong. 

chalkings

After a first story, a second story there, am I supposed to read it. The main negatif of the other hand's avowaled absence draws us closer in the rain.  

To say, one cloak or another. You who cork to become un. If only I could show them all, is the un rule.

I do as you do me (only later, finding: ton pere t'epaule). 

Cloud of Unknowing. Knowing! To think some more about Burt Lancaster might just nix me.

Is there anything we are content not to know, real You and illusionary you, yes I let be.

Trix for cash (Elijah)

(None but last successful “yet” the active and so free to try).

I used to think I had to listen to Private Dancer on repeat to sell a painting (no pass)

To read Sandover to meet my patron heiress (nicht bestanden)

To… only the old ways know 

Eastern Europe bled out with middle Europe and candles work their casting glow

Yes by candles two and twinned I will fulfill this lost wax of the road 

to full peachy life