Partial ingredients: beautiful, and she slow floats through amped-up action | advertising truths and lies battle it out with love | gentle horned red/white/black beasties cavort, drive | okinawa small industry hammers hard, but the duck and buffalo are non-responsive | s/he survive the experiment and generously deliver their feathers | the music thinks up the patterns, you consume them, alright | quiet now, clicky, the ballerina responds to the spanish man | whispered revelations, he honors the spider, reflects on the disco ball | to finish, the broccoli crystals seep green
Partial ingredients: we fleet of feet; what do we see? market bustle-rama, cola placement, boy ninja, flight information | home neighborhood office, with meat and happy technology, some tentacled foodstuffs. consume this, fill the void | blue monkey mediation of german wall text; throw in bedded camel | something bad has happened in yellowland | see how trucks and many other things are made; put them in place | centrally orbiting highspeed objects
Partial ingredients: it's a bath of light and texturization, hop in | dare ya not to keep singing "take it on the run" with the red-eyed birds and bubblegum boys | in here, cars and more are kept, each portal unique, a lovely set of doors; 99? | couldn'Ât we all just be him, congealed of the chaff of memories/hopes/documentation | momma's best stemware takes a beating; sound at the heart of it | C3PO gets to work, shakes 'em down LA-style, hits the beach too | it piles on, the paint, the pics, the paper | to close, a prayer to think; it'Âs flare to ink
Partial ingredients: immersion/absorption/stimulation medley | saving face with green rectangles in a pink subdimension | and decide for yourself: brown skin partners well/not well with slick machinery devices | collide-o-scope atmosphere, and oh the colors, her lips | not really a sheriff, relax | nature's textures, they last, feel, then permeate | tinkertoys | apes share sufficient dna to steer cycles in suburbia | whites, from right two left; trees hold words | oh but not dead in the lot | placid satin sheen, unfolding, gently does its work
Partial ingredients: city scrapers not rightside-up, right-to-left, but the flute soothes | progress monitor scans/sorts the azure bits of future craft, likely | doug-and-mary chips ting/tong the beat, keys and gears, too; heart of what you hear here | and hair of what your head had; slippered away, molt in sepia dream time | easy: ribbons and beachwind, easy | 70s retro-politics accrete in concrete tunnel: bremer/wallace, mcgovern/couch, nixon/chou en-lai; finally: shadows on the wall, still
Partial ingredients: vowing never again to lick the bottom of an aquarium, he does | a map of your morning; beyond | various dancing parts of her | is it is it is it not origami? | sex education with hardware and humor | maybe large static, twitchy diamonds, maybe both, with whisper-thin oration squeezing through; white wisdom
Partial ingredients: kindergarten, grownups; slumber party playtime w/bubbles, balloons; candycolors (mis)remembering the haight | evolution of the strands; grow from grayscale to godlike, tiny tubes to tumult; always slinky at the core?
Partial ingredients: cannibal eyes; trust her and she's yours for now | fragmentary servings of the whole; orderly oscillation time | cosmonaut launches into fugue state with arm accompaniment at 5 psi | dawdling city, we say, thrusting up in her nighttime; but lickable bright, and ours | longitudinally fresh, with no angle of attack, this map-bound time gizmo satisfies all the more
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