carless, difficult, endearing. fucker

if i logically edit to excise mistakes, as that is what editing is, a clarifying of intention, then we may reap the boredom of the intended. this five minute rule will work well for another crowded day in the dense downtown buzz of urban somewheres, not sure if there is any need or advantage to any greater sense of place. in the hub. the intended itself may be a narrow slot canyon, a blind alley wish is liable to flash floods - a beautiful hike sometimes, but not if you want yonder wide field. the possibilities are to take another step forward, or turn around and exit. if one has the right shoes, they can attempt to climb up the sheer rhetorical walls of the narrative, line after blinkered line. break bread, pour a beer at an incline into an inclined glass, the two bend towards eachother, delaying the arrival - no, the intensity - of the foam. transferrance without disturbance. but assholes deserve the bubbles in their beer. i erased those last words. keeping the tidyness of lawns, the line at the car wash, which one needs washing? which child is a dirty one, which one will be made shy by the being told so. john giorno, no brion gysin: the work of the poet is to break the chains holding words together (down). a freedom. part of the plan, or all of the plan, or wait, there's a plan?