I love the way he pranc: es: through the world: Pur:S--:Snaps: his pen: sive coasting.
The sun is a war: ning: (Four: Halves) Either way you're prose:
ly: tizing: the unwanted religious come-on: leaving
a more offensive residue on the body: than the se: xual: Per: Haps I'm
simply lonely: for anything rusted that hinges. O! Orbitterrible.
Non: Memoir: Non: Theory: Non: Language: Non: I-obsessed Non:
self drenched. 39 moons and yet you choose: mimas: phobos: charon: dione:
titan. Do moons have Mir: rors that or: bit: around it?
Playing abra: cadabra with the laser faucet. I smell my purga: torial breath:
awakens me with a re: quest for liquid. I don't want anyone to sp: oil my
picnic: All mons by accident. Pulled: pooled: twirled. Orbitterminus.
I have walked through Bishop's gar: den: and found boys skat:e-boarding:
in the drained orange fountain: twisting their bo: dies in air:
smac: king down the wheels on cement
Offering the crowd of ice cream eaters: the following scripted pitch: is all my
punishment will allow: some days my orbit is sour where a good shave is pushing
myself: depression waiting: salivating like hungry anus: Orbitterminate.
The logic of dying: con: (s)tains a comic agit: ation:
serving California wine in the fourth trauma building: hinges like a
stapled orange root: dang: ling from the tongue: The orange crane lifted
The orange crane lifted its metal mouth against the hill of snow: (people force
others into orbit.)
You never not: iced Venus: and its lack of moons!
I was shot: on this arc: as: cent through sky reminds me of this one
particular a: muse: meant ride. Cumber: some massive rubber boob
with a continuous flow of coating milk:
The children run like ante: lope: up the ob: tuse arc.
The goal was to reach the meta: llic nipple where one could hold on safely:
watch the others slide back down acce: lerated (la: cerated)
(I imagine this is what it's like to die. Per: Haps: Purse: Snaps: Round: Laps:
Pour some rapid aging product in his tea: watch him grow from you to me.)
The luckier ones: can only watch as children slip back down to the ground.
The slip back down: being a kind of break: a kind of beginning
of the descent. Serving busy signals like jokes on the nation. Or:bit:tin:kering
This happened to me once in a high school swim meet. I caught my first
glimpse of this arc I am on. I swam my laps. After the eleventh lap
my father became the swimmer drifting in the lane next to me.
I stopped to ask him what happened.
I've yet to glimpse the arc again. (I don't try hard enough).
The second time I caught the glimpse: I walked too far out into tree.
I forgot the ground is an illusion. I saw my father in the up-stair's window
of our house not knowing he was still home. Orbitterify
I thought myself out of the tree: wondering:
what is the comb: I: nation: pad-locked geo: metric furnace?
Orbittackle Orbittangle Orbittouch.