Where do we read? What do you mean "we"?
Rhyme makes the answer very clear.
Less cleanly, I got your contracted auto-echoism of the transegmental drift hangin, rover drover.
We are impressed and grateful!
Intimations from Sylvia Plath at the Grocery Store
"'The word,' according to Lacan, 'is not a sign but a node of signific- Pages 115 to 341 are not shown in this preview. Frail the white rose please take your change
The newest Hotsy Totsy Club member continues:
SERIES PANOPTHALMACON: CAROLIÑA YES/NO/MAYBE Item 1: Days gone by, decades, four and a pocketful of months, a coin purse of months, smiling blindly. Apples, so trees, rows, bees, firewood stacked around Jack the Landlord's weekend shack, one day sneaking quick peeking, I saw a transciever-thing under the bunk, little curtain pulled back and I'd moved too quick from the big house, the unexpeced jump, hey Jack you got a like a radio station in this funkedy-funk lil cabin eh? Him bein a semi-famous DJ of AM yore so first impress related to Sh shh Okay yeah yeah. Okay. Talk and quiet in there Parsifal Yeah later holding Anna close for loves in the kitchen hey sub-audial and whisper in her ear, Jack's got some kinda wire runnin, in here I think, she's breath intake hold nodding just a bit and embraces tighter me a little closer, so now, me, what, do, so before I lived there I was up in the burb'd leftovers St. Rose, Saint Rose, teeny dwelling small doors and a window that held light of birdsong, college boy I run off it by a buncha Nam vets, 12 miles to the set-up in the orchards, running, run, quick, keep going hurry, run by abandoned trees abandoned fruit small bitter rose-cousins so having moves that went close to the thing in there, machines of perception, power of illusory norm, and chumped into complicit passive and fight it but make that fighting count for more than image son
Item 2: Go along with it, their arrogance will make them blind to us moving, quick, run, still, running, hold, and there you go, the holy damn house is wired, the whole house, even the secret room above the kitchen, second story railroad, and among much else the best piece of ass as piece of ass I ever was in participatory receipt, the light through 19th c. glass in the front bedroom, white clouds of sheet and earth skin love not the love combining souls but animal pure higher than shit sex with a beautiful look-alike, they made movies of us in there not knowing the cameras and the tape reels, the walls having neurons, on summer's wave and young, back in good grace with the vets, or tolerance because magic and connection, we started making movies at the lake and around as the Cochonists moved like a stain across the jumped-up country, kids coughed up tear gas residue all round, there was a drawly lil Texan hanging at the edge of the vet circle and I busted him on the sidewalk just hey man you're like a snitch or something right panic backfill stutter clamp eyes lock please and no please not a snitch I'm a re-porter, calls himself Don but his name's really Dan he tells me, Donny Dan, and weird my Dad met my mom as Dan but his name was really Don, but it's all noise then by now, Wheeler gets taken down by the swine-church Inquisit, those black light-eating suits in the background, untainted by anything like real contact, Wheeler's a commune out the coast a ways, all homemade homes homestyle babies and grains, no cars past this sign they the Cochons hated it and everything about it everything even anything like it especially, have to say this guys, because I, me, loved them, what they were as we danced in each other's arms, what they could promise to become, if they had been left alone, arrested the nominal owner Wheeler and ran the no-cars spirit-fence down, then lawyers feds sheriffs orders news scumsuckers brainwash text p.r. Judge Waffle Allrise
Item 3: day it went down news coming on the undervine Wheeler's done, another pig-victory, they hate us, I stole the gold-fringed Am.flag silky fine from its stanchion in Courtroom B where it happened, plus the eagle finial gold shiny bronze, newspaper said "Someone with a misplaced sense of allegiance..." took it home, then time, traded it for a lesser version from Jon the Queer, then time, movie days for school term-papers and hey, what it would look like that, what, flag, slo-mo shotgun blast, Antonioni against the redwood sky, super 8, Honeywell Elmo Bob gave me, Jesus, and Rather, yeah I know but true it's my life of a piece, he was undercover doing a vet return story, not yet a Cronkite, not even a Brinkley, and he's out there in the sideyard with me and that camera me and some ex-grunts as filming gets under way, and I get it set up pinned and stretched Old Glory got a shooter twenty paces north, and right as it's right then he comes running at it, the gun no I can't let you it's the flag it's what I believe my country my heart I can't let it go and he like puts himself in the line of fire and shit okay okay shit okay you can block this and see it happen in the real, promise, or you can let me draw the poison out into the virtual where I can no no you can't no, okay okay no, fuck here we go, okay no, alright, no
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