The Tarred Spotlight

The other at my side/who marks my sides/my emphasis/my utopia/ is my daily secret/9 views/see-me, see-me/I exist/so that when we love we are subject to a double regime/the gentle severity of an approaching /as if it were the seasons/you become the ruler of an empty city where dialogs are often mute/this does not prevent them for taking place/transcribing/luring you to the outskirts of all audible roots/to pull them out and replace them with an empty fertility/ a mutation drills itself into the vacant, into the hollow--and echos/until every idea is an object we are so very busy becoming our own ideas of ourselves and some of your ideas are the pride before the fall/to restore displacement something must evolve/then something else/then the things at our sides/which mark our sides in the green of complete mythology/in the clearing out of the blotch of days, the secret becomes the law/ then the walls of a no-longer empty metropolitan-metropolitan/ I hope to never be polite but always/ we are here to lose our hopes to their performance/for example/ we have a black president/why did we do that to him/but we love that man/we hope he wins again