The holes in the wall for electrical
Outlets, the light switches. Always wrong. You.
White walls cut and cut again. The you. The
Adjustment of white walls. Raised and installed.
Pulled down. Cut again of a pan of hard
Work. Timed. Protected. You sweat in the house.
Beat. All the sudden. For no reason. The
Celery, and peppers. Tonight. They’re just
White dust dying in your hands. Her cut. Truth.
A suitable piece of scrap that you cut
To fit the spot where the wall crumbles.
It gets on the floor. It gets on your clothes.
In your hair. In your eyes. It gets on.
Because even in your eyes it gets on.
Worker who has to make up the public
Violence. Words are not sticks or stones. They are
That glass’s condensation as working.
President Trump. If he were eloquent.
Wouldn’t be bad if the poetry gets
Cold. Speaking meditations. On things owned.
Directed out of the static essence.
Pine trees. Pickled pig’s lips. Anything sold.
Solid. Delusioned. Private. Growing like
Weeds. Walmart garlic flavored racial strife.
Once gave the mid-morning the second day
People that speak those vile and evil words
Fried emotional nature. Destroyed.
This as a work for you to recreate.
To be triggered at your lectures. Doctor
Peterson just say our words. To threaten
All reporters. Can we get some muscle
Over here? To break windows and burn trash.
They’d run the bases, if not they would shift
Their heads as they left early. And the game,
That rambling word salad they might have.
Supremacists. Asses with adaptions.
And I really hate to think that in all
Places all over the world they are there.
With lefties just a bunch of anti-speech
Storm troopers, aren’t they stronger and far-
ther righter than the Nazis that they punch.
Dear Sir or Ma’am, I’m writing in response
And to experience togethering
The Assistant position. I’m int’rested
Oval with coins out of mourners. The grubs
Have lived in several different parts of
Blooded murder. Between one-thirteen and
The country. And I have special love
For them. The think and Means. The wall a black
To your add for the Administrative
Experimental experience. One
For the charm of Mississippi life. It
Of black hospitals and hallways posted
Enthusiasm for Mississippi
In him. Consistent of only the first.
Up to my face like not knowing the grain.
Warn of God’s love and lifetimes of risking
Unwanted caressing of my new love.
I don’t mind experiments of living
Love in a rush to make it into Heaven.
But Hillary is not all love and peace.
She is cunt Jemima. Is living God.
Is this problem surmised. Is as a God
Of love. Love of a beautiful woman.
Love to spot a beautiful woman. Love
On her means. On her fire door. On her
Attempting knowledge. On her beer people
You wanna know. On her Saturday vote.
On her ceiling of black shame. On her meat.
Zinfandel servants write of the black. The
Black. Because of minimum luxury
Insulation. Opportunity. Black
Reader knows how to spot the adaption
They turn like television gangsters
The Colonization view of open bails.
Neshoba Central softball team captured
Candidates who have a ballot Tuesday.
Convinced voters cast absentee ballots.
Time willing recount these madly in love
And the adaptations cause directed
Our love, ourselves. We love town punch. We are
Blue Bic, your black butler with years of
Audience while all unknowable.
Just well with the truth and enlightenment
They the third with you my logical words.
Spray Goons. Being played mixing guide coffee
Through white. One toga walked down the stone
White characters, and the former must be
Light. The they were dressed sane in same theme.
Of fossil. Dissolved tissue. A white steam.
One adjusted the kite slightly back and
Right. White characters think about keeping
Cold reward Cleveland steamer earth laid up
White. Want the grisly black and white and looped
Streets beyond boundaries of simpleminded
Others, dim as of the white in front of
Lights abutting a busy street pocket.
I do not tell tale of us. That they, the
Cry of clay bricks baked in the sun, reclaimed
Move. This I shifted. And so judges would
Three miles down, under the lightning split
Of Road three hundred and forty and eight.
The screen time of The Plantation, the bar,
And the name of the bar in Big Beaumont
Is designed to be one of my keeping
Grains of the shoulders. Debra usually
The wraith elm. Tattered rags flapping the breeze.
But since the learning, the part of chairs, she
Could move what breathed brown my light. The first strong
Lower part of her intimidating
Need. The black entrance masks of Purell Gods.
The army of eclectic floodlights on
While Melanie waits to receive the show
Breathing unworthy of the rewards. Of
Clear-cut rainforest. Of The agenda.
Of rules of living words in revision.
Let’s face it to the room full of people.
Conversation. Its lower typical.
Holding discussion to fight criminals.
Eggs on clay. The frost line. To look good, they
Rue the day. Time to transcribe the story
The senses are heightened in shortsighted
Swing. Sight is the only religion. Shoot
The deep. The audience with a lunar gong.
The boundaries of life are blurred. Licensed. Spent.
Looking strange, he legged to the bathroom stall.
Corona.com caters to his mind.
Characters’ minds: Crumbling brackets of black.
Lost. Your other last time. The sense of smell.
The sewer rooms cannot exist. You were,
Vestiges on the gold age of highway
The life of watered ice and liquored drink.
Walked stiff from the balcony. All corners
To try the manuscript book. The mounting.
The driver drives the registers and lives.
The glover gives the register of loves
Ambiguity lay. The transfer of
Industries. Of the poem. Of my old balls.
Out of the one side and out the other.