Footnote on the Blueprint

The organ resolves itself
of no tunnel, a tone
The Huns marching over their own swooning nexus
of overdrawn attention, to produce their halt in the blood of what went on
and every septic and chronicle they trample is a scream ecstatic captured at the tip of it in the ruby between 3 eyes looking through one especially
There are fiends who get most high on hiding from what they are looking through
then press down the taxi window and scream something antisocial or aristocratic into the crow like
I hope you live forever, your sermon disclosed in an automatic gun for fast continuous firing
Or The lucky scene from Waiting
for Godot,
in which one of them dances while the other one thinks
though there is no communication between the moving and the thinking, besides a tone
A species implies itself there, and what are we doing
wounded in honor, we choose to go to the moon because