and enter coast Wednesday it rhymes with boast


             Xerxes the xerox god: crash of surf
                                                        smash of rock and water

                                  the hurricane pounded away ceaselessly people without water
                                                 or electricity

                                                                         you survived


the chariest


n a sense switch that demonstrates that love can be both bitter and sweet, chary later came to mean "dear" or "cherished." That's how 16th-century English dramatist George Peele used it: "the chariest and the choicest queen, That ever did delight my royal eyes." Both sorrow and affection have largely faded from chary, however, and in Modern English the word is most often used as a synonym of either careful or sparing.



And how about the North and South coast?


We 'll talk about that another time how G. who'd I'd been crazy

    over,who  she rejected, refused, and denied me again and again

                                            went to the North Pole,

                      yes we ll talk about that and how I at the ripe age of 30 ended up at the bottom

          of South America wending my way to the Antarctic where I'd met a peculiar class of women

             runaways, fugitives,

 we were not chary of their love,

                               affection tearing the frozen afternoons, the afterbirth of death and  life,

                                       for the sake of those which made sense
                                                              your cities grew wise
                                                                           air winding its way along avenues
                                                                                                   nimbly and free
                                                           goodbye to the car,
                                                                                   welcome to the world saunterer,



as far as coasts go..


   the East is more human, the west coast lost  that flair ages ago   ~ the east was smaller and poorer retaining

   heart, humanity, soul, care neighborliness without being intrusive and nosy,

closer to the wilds and rough poverty, not no fun, 

                                 dont lets mystify it,

East coast water

                                woods,  lands,    brooks,  falls, flats,     streamings,

                              magnetic hill,                              small towns, railroads,

                                             the ocean not far, fish,
                                    isn't love kinder in those region? cause love's always cruel otherwise
                                                              an worse in the bigger cities,

                                                         where capital chop chop chops it's hand wrecking everything
                                                                         with ego, and dollar signs and everything,
                                                                demanding the pretence to identity,



On the west coast


   on the west coast everything was rain and wet, rainy, wet, west coast, phoney and the bill

                   the bullshitters were bigger better more efficient,




   how many bodies   you got ?

                 at least 7? the active number of blogs, which are mine,

                in the antigravitational field of light,

                             not books, and dead gravity,


d i c tions 1 , 2 , 3

the capitalists tell you guilt
all you do is produce
they wait
for your poverty
to steal
your riches
your labour
labour is god
the capitalist is theft


rink to play


Rink to play. Think fury its parrot squeeze and the schizophrenic knees beneath the battering. Not will but pill making ... sassafras... grass... for the obscene berry ~

_________________________Jill's moniter . Thief to her begging food from assholes never lent a page in their lives.

Jerks to the forward obscene harridan hags always righteous at their asshole's revival ~

____________ A truepenny for your thought winding out her master's pair she's gotten every subject right, ridge to the claim, sequestered to her unwilling game ~

________________ If Jill's one she's one two three ~.

 For months it was vain. Weather vanes. And rain. Tarnished the roof. Rood of the christ jack bobbin on the tarmac.                  Bucephalus yowling  to stoneed  road rock in her hooves. A cemented dog god for the clogs  ~ 
                                Warning its feet could break anything
Because it was  grief and parrots. Pirates sullen as rose cleavage beggared in the further side. Dawn's best bracken-water. Not a soul able to make head or tails, following their limber. Gibberish to the busted rhum of their tents. Hanging on the high water. Coming over the hill and along flank side of the valley's girth. Bested by the window and the archers . Hoofing over the sheer size of its. Sizar and servant cutting back and the bugler trumpetting her fear. Some cry her cunt to the whole crazed alley.

with a gale coming on no one crowding its pent over dock, and. yes, my darling this's the judo chop of capitalism's last lamb chop.


Thinking you knew something Jill on the wooden payphone old drug store pharmacy lent to the background of the film's production...





love love___________________a fateau from 2010_ april 15,th,

I've no idea what this film looks like or is about. Ive not seen it! In fact, the secret of my cinema is that I have not seen any movies,least of all one called
Love. What is it?

As for Godard I've never heard of him. I have not seen a movies since the late 90's. I n those days it was a thing .. we went to movies wearing hoods  slouched in a seat  ..I was a  'rebel.' ...

 Dark and darkness    a cigarette and Chinese food afterward and it was the West coast   and it was go(o)d  ... With a small      D like love, with a  Big . hahhahha Love 's a big L. Love the Big booboo WomanMan,the Big Bad L.   not the bores or square i knew and  ...



   what to say except it's here,





Imperfect _daDa __ 1917 ___2017


imperfect corrections 100 years  1917
 night barred day
 the ship ran an oasis remembering kings gave in
    docks running dry your hope stir and mix bang bang dada
               dada a word bust groin
   things shopped  bruises negative  superlative word why brown eyed
             her darling socks inviting you in
             the clutter opened up festooning airs pride danced the maximum
 rate of vineyards and olav olives for her mouth down south

                  this way of holding her hair her ears tinily
                   over that old town
                                  staying out against the war

                                               combusting promise forced combination
                juxtaposition a way of life and this first night in the cabaret
                     where no deaths heads no soldiers
                               no war no navies no trenches
                                                                the friends gathered in the  racket





                              wednesday   emptiness  filled

                                                               the foothills the mountains 



Sample of a really 'bad' poem with the so called title : between

first of all you can't see it!



  1.  why is this a bad poem take each potato what a thing a crossoverd body what not's her ah ah hand invisible

broke by life's sputter putter eternal glub love bugboo
achoo that two dollar mile at the dollar rama

a deal working for amblies which holdout on the prairies


between these eyes your sleep marries thought
   captures the warm its seizure your day 
night passes passes its willing caring to know 
    answer this way your love speaks 
not the crude
lover you walked away from so arrogant your ass
wagging its two dollar smile that orange cummerbund wrapping
it back forth back and forth like a f__k that's gone bad
 meanwhile a woman in the side-seat in the back has gotten old
I'gnored her. She was loving . She was submission. I wanted her too
much. And you? where are you darling calling on the coming need
in your French potato?





      Tuesday was a day like any other without your loving body
                      beside me a hold in this world, lost beside, emptiness,


   but commas continue everything,
                                                                  blogs aren't books and when that's gotten
everything's forgotten

 begotten in the new beholden rainbow

                                                                            of love's body and the comma,

                                         the caring shoulders,

                                                                                   and looking listening for that
                                         new beat,

                                                       not pretending a book

                                                                    but looking for that new body

                                                 that new human body ever light,



the world this world,


              The world this world's a bedlam , it revealed itself  a'gain   ,

                       it usualy does show that terrible side, it does here or there,
                                  human madness in one form and another,

                      At the same moment the same day and hour thousands of actions of goodness took place,

                             I am thinking of her, and whatever ails her, whatever is causing her sickness

                                let her be well, and recover,            let her find her path 

                                               on the walking tour of life,

                                                 always hoping for her best

                                          wishing for hers and the best of others

                                                                  in this world, this place of hope and breath,

                                                                              more birth more life,