Jangle (& then some (more spamku))

If you are setting

up a trip in any woods,

by no means swallow

city he had long

dreamingly looked up to as

Scotia's energy

we all fall in love with the wrong people, (she got out of the car, slammed the door,) it's part of getting older, growing up, (my saab's been having trouble starting lately so i couldn't immediately follow, then the ignition caught) we find out who we are by finding out who can love us, but just as often it's who can't (a sharp pungent twist of her waist and she heads up Bay Street) that allow us to reflex a voice of self assertion in a world that doesn't make much sense.
Please (back the car up, turn to follow) get back in the car I (a profusion of trashcans have emerged to watch us parade) am sorry for what I did (a thin gray rain blurring the windshield) I am, I'm sorry (my eyes burning) just get back in the car and (her heart is a stone, the wipers squeak) we'll talk about it.

"You owe me money," she says (munificence is dead) before disappearing into the 52^nd Street Club (I am still breathing).

start with treating swig

you find exclusive cleansing

then dampen s hot.

iniquity sink

of the wet aridityto

of to with some form

Evolutions of All Sound & Light

Who wants in?
What is that ringing?

Is that my door or am I dreaming? Caught up in a beautiful lack of reality.
No one is coming to save us. No one should have to. You cry and you cry and you cry out for help so scared. Like so many false alarms no one hears.

He wants to hold her close. He tells her. Lips move but no sound emerges.
She does not hear. She does not come. His heart is still empty.
He walks away.

In crowded burning rooms I see nothing but the convergence of empty airs. Poor delicate ants milling, lifting, bitching, because they can. Wicked medicines swallowed by corpses at the bottom of the sea. It all rests coolly under a starry pacific sky. The masks of god topple down like the gems of springtime rain while a wind chimes along with a quiet soulless song.

What is that ringing?

Where is my door?

Her breasts pressed to his, cold nipples never warmed,
they are farther apart now than ever.

And all the chirping cellphones of the world cry out to each other like little birds echoing the ghost cries of big bang infinity. Explosions large and small. Every decibel represented. Every complex avenue of evolution appears. Every pathway explored. Everything makes sense.

But nothing makes sense.

Beyond the paychecks and the highway, the friends and the city and the TV signal and the frauds of every manner of tangled passions... beyond all these

lies silence.

Now I hear no deathly ringing.

Now the golden door melts into my skin. Who wants in?
Her eyes explode with beauties both large and small, ringing with the light of every dream I've ever lost.

He closes his eyes and the world is gone.
He opens his eyes and the world is gone.

And everything is waiting to ring, waiting to make sense, waiting to be let in.

Alone we are infinite, but don't be scared.

"Alone we are infinite," he says.

Alone we are infinite.