Recognize
that they are hieroglyphs—Declarations of protest, or downstrokesAdvanced by the supernatural—These symbols that stretch to contain a name’s
Bearer; and then, as if a scar by incision, your reified title confers blatant sabotage
Of all centers—To Egyptians, it meant vulnerability to invasion; today’s litigation—One trips
Various triggers of the mind, all to get to the dining room every evening, with a hermit’s
Agitations. To untrained eyes, a pharaonic cartouche on a pilaster was a cartridge, for a zinc
Alloy bullet, coated in tallow. Like most coinages not perceived; nonetheless grafted, as zinc
Into ammunition, by those who make them, the inscription contains more than downstrokes—
But boundless
definition. When misapplied, those retraced ellipses topple the hermit
Detached, but admiring from a contorted position; charged with containing a fountain’s name.
The cartouche, intended to be exempt from this measure, has stopping power. Where one trips
Over the template of a life, relating phonetic principles to other names, one commits sabotage
Diffident to disclose a coefficient of one’s life, although no pardon is necessary with sabotage,
Which turns hostile overnight. You, nor Lavoisier, blink consciously sentenced before a zinc
Tub or lined basket. And this is the complaint over the tyranny of language, the power trip,
Or the consequence of desire looking back—A solar eclipse, exact but invisible; downstrokes
Of the present absorb everything unanswered, or aging in proportion—That I surrender a name
Of the party you pay condolence for not seeing unobstructed views from the hermit’s
Tower. Yet my throat is bursting with it; the spent casing is trivial within itself, like the hermit.
Detached, but admiring from a contorted position; charged with containing a fountain’s name.
The cartouche, intended to be exempt from this measure, has stopping power. Where one trips
Over the template of a life, relating phonetic principles to other names, one commits sabotage
Diffident to disclose a coefficient of one’s life, although no pardon is necessary with sabotage,
Which turns hostile overnight. You, nor Lavoisier, blink consciously sentenced before a zinc
Tub or lined basket. And this is the complaint over the tyranny of language, the power trip,
Or the consequence of desire looking back—A solar eclipse, exact but invisible; downstrokes
Of the present absorb everything unanswered, or aging in proportion—That I surrender a name
Of the party you pay condolence for not seeing unobstructed views from the hermit’s
Tower. Yet my throat is bursting with it; the spent casing is trivial within itself, like the hermit.
To speak
above all things that which is constant, the hand-beveled gears and latent
sabotage
Of the clock, chances are, it is precisely at this moment—Your cartouche—An unlocked name
Inscribed on an antique coffin, otherwise with no interest to answer in a museum building, zinc
Cladding along the skyline. So we are not quite lost, a reporter of images claims a downstroke,
Particularly the upside-down lowercase “h” formation of “y” are exhaustive; where I trip
Over what it says about your sex drive—Matching the Napoleonic muzzleloader that tripped
Its bullets of papier-mâché to attribute the shen ring—Circumscribed solar flares, hermit-like,
Nevertheless erupt through the shoulder blades by one who feels your pen’s downstroke.
A meaning essential to herself, when none call out to girls of the establishment, sabotaged
By their half-remembered essayists. These properties allow for low-cost replication, zinc
Statuary is understood in this dream as the cause for the park’s stunted trees—Here names
Of past loves collect in toxic catchments. Our attention is fixed on a gesture for a name.
Of the clock, chances are, it is precisely at this moment—Your cartouche—An unlocked name
Inscribed on an antique coffin, otherwise with no interest to answer in a museum building, zinc
Cladding along the skyline. So we are not quite lost, a reporter of images claims a downstroke,
Particularly the upside-down lowercase “h” formation of “y” are exhaustive; where I trip
Over what it says about your sex drive—Matching the Napoleonic muzzleloader that tripped
Its bullets of papier-mâché to attribute the shen ring—Circumscribed solar flares, hermit-like,
Nevertheless erupt through the shoulder blades by one who feels your pen’s downstroke.
A meaning essential to herself, when none call out to girls of the establishment, sabotaged
By their half-remembered essayists. These properties allow for low-cost replication, zinc
Statuary is understood in this dream as the cause for the park’s stunted trees—Here names
Of past loves collect in toxic catchments. Our attention is fixed on a gesture for a name.
Only a triptych of the unspoken could have penetrated that distance,
and it is on trips
In fear of being exposed, the orangeries frost, with the fetish of successive guises from zinc
Bars—Out of the reach of sunlight, one could spend an entire life constructing hermetic
Sentences. Considering the fate of those who remain at large, I avoid the sabotage
Of shifting obelisks—What is more petrified, these rays or deciphering their downstrokes?
It never loses patience, my gooseneck light shifts over the downstrokes of your name—
You looked unhappy to accept sabotage. At the trip’s envoy, actuated by the circuit
Of your beauty, a hermetic meaning is etched between my too-burnished zinc plates.
In fear of being exposed, the orangeries frost, with the fetish of successive guises from zinc
Bars—Out of the reach of sunlight, one could spend an entire life constructing hermetic
Sentences. Considering the fate of those who remain at large, I avoid the sabotage
Of shifting obelisks—What is more petrified, these rays or deciphering their downstrokes?
It never loses patience, my gooseneck light shifts over the downstrokes of your name—
You looked unhappy to accept sabotage. At the trip’s envoy, actuated by the circuit
Of your beauty, a hermetic meaning is etched between my too-burnished zinc plates.
1 comment:
Exercise 91.
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