Entrance

It was the wishing hour on t.v.. We discussed the technology of wishing. It included a mutilation of the present that I found inferior to knowing and even ignorance. Or because the known and the unknown touch/dreaming has made stricter terms of dreaming. To stutter or to lose your scars or to occur as a cluster of beginnings. I admired these efforts in the words that pierced themselves to preserve their union letters; wholeness being too close to dismissal, revolution forcing you back to yourself, a leaving you propelled through proper/names, tags, goals, gutters and plugged your form of or joint jesus is smoking or listening from and you're petty enough to see a difference against the shattering effigies of slum geese, your grace pursed as the error or terror or urge of maybe makes a symposium to replenish each joke landscape with stoicism and a cube and a horse and a person. To the brim of grammar where my real companions hear immediacy as the wordless slow jam and tendon it is, driving you over its candor and into it like a bribe or a token or to show him where it drops and

Eagle celebrating road, gets flat
Road celebrating eagle, gets black
Stoic celebrating memory gets that memory ahead of when what matters to the myth is not the rule of fidelity but its song, and remembers it was like that all along, it was the wishing hour on t.v., we tested the technology of wishing. It left holes in the words labeled literal unto the rubric like 'coming true' 'granted' 'I wish a nigga would' 'star required' and we were so sure the machines were working we took up singing and gave our faith a price