Break me into pieces as words and I will come back together as deeds, as the already champions of our great scatalogical hope bespeak renditions of the way he kisses money--- a tender vulgarity he traps in his tree-lined myth like an heiress reaches out for their jewel and touches the bare order so raw raw pear sliced into being there and there as Ra as kabbalah hollow trust hotel lobby, as a harem of obvious secrets admitted to the music and then snatched back through it too
People pay good money to watch us believe in ourselves, to detect that we really do, enough, even, to forget ourselves and go on doing
And their looking is like surveillance hobbling over copy/copy almost forgot the being watched part which is no harder than being invisible but less bold and shiftless, they fit together in time and eternity like bargains with the items : a lash gets traded for the backseat of a caddy, because it's the smooth heave of togetherness we've hidden soft laughing, tugging on the hyde of our drift and then sit-in / sit-in
/riot keep it live in the rhythm of vision
We begin to dominate the situation through the awe inspired by our total submission to it. Completeness is brutal or brute or trembles with use value over exchange value making a beautiful view of the plantation juke scene, I can hardly lean on the meaning before the use is happening, it's like being back with the great unlearning... And that's alright. That's alright with me
