The stop time limits motion

   Cheap fleshy rock

Looming yellows colour a tooth

What's under the light is clean or dirty

   Local stuff

flames away from glass

The air is geology

   A house docks

amid cool woods and busy reference

   The crows cats

   foxes and magpies

look for food, sunlight and shadow

pointing into the tense

 

The exact species picks up background

using the floor to step out

   a bright read surface

Numbers grip, value's murk

a clear pencil blackens bafflement

   "bursts lead to bursts"

Preference is an asterisk

   A star dreaming of light

   and torn through touch

 

A primer is noting the mismatch

Several beachchairs covered in snow

   of some aerial wrench

nailed by its stalk to the pole

   Night siphons mirror

a hot wind and party guests traced by pheromones

   Each hole is solid

bubbles into view against the window

As the sun comes on and we think to

   transduce coolness

By kissing force goodbye

   This conscience

a lucky official sense of depth

 

   Angular lassitude

with the "whirr" of a person

nailed to its closed tip a sentiment

   yielding states

human jets strip out of the bandshell

pink rubber dovetailed with night haze

   unbutton, press release

the ripe cycles got collected

   names in their celibacy

   questioning space

 

   The eye as target

   no rival teams

   "block the sight"

The written region calls spontaneous

Chains link means, ring mute bells

   Forming spheres

bake until golden

Doubt tunes division

in an "evaporating matrix"

   Deep sides resist

   a flat thumb

projecting a simulated hook

 

Invisible method "envelops photographs as

   much as literature"

A short bead perspires

   The flames are white

their shapes stuck before noting

   the designated exit

One flicks through a transitive corridor

   Sense data fills

   from its amber lining

in range of discoloured routine

 

Super dated places one five

   dropped a neutral caption

Commotion goes unprobed

   so space is loaded

   Sequence merely describes

these short lines are "breathers"

tumbling into the frame like eels

One half hangs over

   swamps that hinge

   The self pleasure market

The author escapes from its paragraph

clear ideas thus accompanying words

   onto the boat