emotional blob seeks emotional robot:
emotional blob seeks emotional robot, spots emoto-iconic robotic hu-man walking across a busy new york L.A. sidewalk corner, a diagonal cross right-left to achieve maxium efficiency
underneath asphalt is screaming childhood white lines and yellow lines (denoting various areas of patience)
emotional blob watches closely as emotional robot crosses the street, overcomes past and reaches towards the future.
in the never before seen will have been going to have been, emotional blob with future-past inclinations rises then sets like a presently cooking quiche
and crosses the street only after every designated zone of childhood is processed.
emotional robot is many blocks away by now, and emotional blob in suspended patience manages to elastize outward and inward for what we call, 'the snap', which sends emotional blob forward through space=time and standing right next to emotional robot.
they meet. emotional blob says, "hello"
emotional robot says, "hello"
emotional blob takes out a diagram of arrows and circles, many lines describing movement, and physics of hovering to explain to emotional robot.
"won't you look at this? i'd like you to analyze this for me. this describes my constant hovering. the way in which i can fly. does it make sense to others? it feels so simple to me."
emotional robot takes the paper in their hands and reads it lovingly, swims in it, submerges its mind with the material plane, and hands it back to emotional blob.
"it means i love you. in a cloud offering. stillness."
"are you the blue spirit? the one that visits me in the womb? i've only written plans for flying."
"i only see clearly."
"and all my thoughts are vague scribbling."

It's like a wave-cloud. The gift of hovering. One simply picks up their feet when the wind comes by, and in the grooves of the air=ether spins inward and thru-wards, round one way then another to go straight. It's like a wave-cloud.

"I must teach such scribblings!" screams emotional blob.
And emotional robot spins wildly at this. In such. A. way. to kick up the sand=dirt, create a cloud and disappear.
They do.
with heavy breathing make love.
make love of teaching.
all the hovering.
breath which falls out of their mouths and dissipates to make bread.
for the children.
who now are born on wet land.
the moisture of love their mother father brother lover.

practical analysis and intuitive knowing.

join when steel and glob meet once on a street corner in new york L.A. Johnson City.

spittle

when i close my eyes
visual grid grind absorbs into my body
i become the night sky
lines of neon steam exhaust
feathered movement
nothing is clear
fuzzy

bananas

skin is no where

yes

there is no where

i see heat cannot feel one another

ive lost my voice

little birdie singes

ive lost my voice


and it sounds like screeching and i know im in not the best care

oh oh well
in the best care! not my own
hands of an angel!
cloud

while they wait in the hot hot heat

hear them
in the a/c manufactured calm

hear them in the boxes inside on top of boxes

find some confidence that

the anima is alive while sufferring

waiting for you to leave comfort for fortune
the fortune of allowing animals outside by the side of the road
to die or live by some feathered gift and luck

hands of the angel!
cloud

hands of the knobby kneed boy in the sky who makes stars with his scars
and skateboard marks

hands of the angle!

when i close my eyes
a ribbon wraps it up
wraps my tongue and a bow on top
a present for my present.

a node for my knot.

I don't think you like me

Inside if i search my heart I feel less wounded and some sticky soft cloud like fog of fear


i don't know anything

have little trust in the process

i don't know

i just don't

it scares me
and when i have faith
i feel vulnerable for injury


hey but its cool

ode to delaware
foul smell wrapped in flowery antique lace
historic historic historic river
made of endocrine disruptors

fuck it...

you can't swim in a river made of money
founded in gunpowder
they say you can't i don't know why

when the fishies seem fine

but it's all a lie

when we grew up we knew we had to leave and leave we did
catch and release
and each time we get caught we scream to ourselves who forgot
jesus christ there are some

who will die when they bake too long