Coming from a new direction:

August 26, 2009

Your concentration face, outside of yourself, is it you?

This expression of no intention

your muscles enjoying the freedom from their rearrangement duty

For a while, they don’t have to say anything,

so they wave with the push and pull of rigor

(anemones in the shallows, the tide coming in),

filtering out the little bits you can swallow.

and you sir, chewing on your glasses,

why are you so hungry?

where is your hole?

Ah, fuck.

At least your socks match.

Sitting, discussing, planning

everything is so clean, everyone so

spe-ci-fied

and

im-ple-men-tatious

“The issue about site plan stem number two”

skee-ta-tat-tat

“…That fully undersssstands that”

skoo-doo-dah-doo

Who’s he talking to?

I know the passion wind is an inconsistent and flighty vehicle,

but, for those fiery seconds of movementum infinitum,

one can’t help but fall for her temporary permanent resolve.

and so something must be done,

to keep the teetering, so joyfully

and carelessly upset in a fit so allogical;

it grits its teeth and keeps the balance.

“Lets wrap up we’re losing power here.”

There is something upsettingly poetic about Mr. Meeker sometimes.

West looks at his watch in characteristic brevity.

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