Maybe I should read something from this new work.
We're still working on some nested or experimental poems
I could call it.
I do not accept it as poems, take
the responsibilities of poems.
Something like that.
"Directive Political Technologies: The Countdowns,
or, An Essay On Readings: An E-Play.
Choose the title that best fits you.
The spokesman.
"Where is the world?"
the client asks, "They fly [INAUDIBLE]."."
"It's cyclone baby," the doctor declared.
News websites, a quote, a quote, a language game.
Gathering materials, news, websites, love, 80 scores
and wild [INAUDIBLE] intercourse,
news websites, a come on place, reprinted, great, news,
websites, news, websites.
Trained assassins.
Assassin.
Trained as an assassin.
Great assassins.
Assets passes.
Spanish.
As in ass.
Trade, reprinted.
Blurbs, verb.
English, racist, the nuclear danger.
The [INAUDIBLE].
"Stop your control.
You are not going to be buried.
Your body is going to remain.
Your language is not in danger.
Stop the war against the rest of the world," he said,
"the text it speaks to us."
He's so religious.
English is indeed in danger, in deep danger.
"It is believing English, this language, itself, Congress."
"Language, itself.
Yes.
The play, The big play.
That big, big play.
Big.
The big play.
That big play that was written by that who?
Who?
That European, yes.
The playwrite, yes, yes.
The jay birds.
The plays.
The big plays.
That dude out there recalls, yes, yes.
They were fabulous, the plays.
Yes, yes, the plays.
Sex.
Sexy.
Yes, sex.
Why not?
Sex.
Yes, yes, the place.
Yes, the plays."
"Meaning, oh meaning, can you imagine him?
He is so gorgeous.
He is my son.
I went to birth him.
His name is Tim.
He is also sick.
His soul.
He is six."
"Yes, the plays.
Yes, yes.
Them."