[CHUCKLES]
I'm going to read from four different sections.
This first section is called Impetus.
Yeah.
It's nice.
[CHUCKLES] OK.
"Comes undone.
Through the Mojave, the car overheats.
We turn on the heat to counter it.
Bags of ice melt before the given point.
I lost [? flank ?] to physics, momentum interrupted.
The cash crop.
The drive in invitation.
The Oriental Miss Universe, defined bikini, skin.
The Dow plummets.
A flame made then no wish to stop.
The first gray hair.
This inhalation.
This vehicle conflagration.
No halt to a certain kind of passion,
playing in close contact.
The smell of your soap impresses upon my senses.
Wading through a shallow pond I can run on.
The tap leaks drip, drip, drip trampled by schoolchildren
falling to abrupt stops.
A skinned knee bled and bruised the shape of a crescent moon.
Body dissects through space.
He runs a mile to the ocean and plunges.
Vault, past participle, resurfaces, recovered.
This twisting torso.
This wounded knee.
We swing on our axes, encapsulated frame.
My watch stalled in a pool and I rush to the bottom of the ocean
to retrieve.
I saw a sea of fish and dead weeds.
Elementary speed.
A lipstick stain on the windshield.
First base, second base, third.
We run out of time for all tomes.
Beyond bipeds.
Potential extracts from a cotyledon.
Empires will revolve around the ancient rites.
Sun, Neptune, the Andromeda galaxy.
I played billiards on my birthday.
The eight ball snapped out of stasis into corner pocket.
Stretched across in medias res, figured into the plot, carrots,
steamed broccoli, peas measured between fast and really fast.
3 inches grow to the waistline as the hairline
swoops backward.
Birth is enacted.
There is less to prove.
Love as a leftover barometer.
Your name in your own handwriting
written in the mud, washed.
I wished it to last the home stretch.
The staged exit.
The door slammed shut and she spit."
Is there a reverb that I need to deal with?
OK.
Well, if it's musical, I'll go with it.
"A wrist bleeds at a bone.
We are our culture who prefer form.
Things halt when the mechanism lacks beauty.
A waterfall is tendrils of muscle pulled
across an edge is lustrous.
Broken bones happen.
Clay makes itself ambiguous as shapelessness.
But Earth is an element and is here.
The fixture snaps.
A pea pod leaks peas.
Putting myself into things ridicules.
As a shape is an incarnation, 'tis better
to be ether, an irredentist prospect
insistence on this world.
Meanwhile, on the farm the fracture
heals as a permanent limp in the leg.
The concussion becomes more feasible.
The nubile actress less eligible.
They tell you to drink milk, but each mind
insists on conspiracy.
My cognition is beyond 256 colors.
The president will always cheat us.
I believe watermelon juice.
I believe belts.
I find there are difficult trips to take.
When in doubt your weapons will fail you."