and the distance-catchers. (who are they?)
A triangle as tall
as the rain has to fall.
(in brackets) does that mean
they are caught in this, too?
does It mean
this cannot be caught, either?
there is us
hand-tied until
we have learnt
how to fly
If only the weather more Something clearer
could be worn comfortable than this hole
like a tie lasso in my face
First place is everything on time
And that exactly to ask what of happiness of being happy
hands-free signal of meaning different from meaning
of happiness
in the thoughts of that which
is not happy
“that which is”
witch of Which, again
which spares the middle;
the mean cuts
more than it enjoins
I might enjoyn-ow
but then, the same time of time as before
what time is it “then”?
and half of the time
so at least half of everything else.
As wide as a rectangle of sleep.
Contender two whence and even in the
for worst all spillage of all
defender of distinction things into one
history mystery religious another,
it probably did not have to get as bad as me being as bad as myself
but really
who really
knows?
The distance catchers.
who are They?
Hole whole symmetry.
It probably.
the first page has been unicorn
Salting over things peppercorn
All very forlorn
Most of the time,
so pretty much all of the time.
A variety of rainbow
made up from part-visions
of a suspected unified existence
but not yet seen all-in-one.
The Greater things are born
of either scorn, porn or bore-dom
(not-one-but-two is such a beautiful fucking whore)
therefore, there are no greater things [sic]
Just peppering
which does not get justice
but perhaps for-gets justice
witch I fail to understand
which might be the point
of the triangle or the rain
does not get jusTice: but spiCes: Up sensation
from
parameters of unicorn self-justification
to
unicornification of self-same parameters
like a rhythm to be found inside a proper shuffle
(in brackets)
the distance to be caught
is the measurement of all distance catching,
until we learn flight
everything in sun-dye
the whole of the hole in my face
is
the hole of the whole of my face
symmetry probably
if only it could be drawn on
as the weather draws on
the water
to walk and talk
at the same time
You see it now, do you not?
Something in between; something missing
Tied hands, bloodshot eyes, sky of a fire
Hell.
Almost.
But again, not quite.
A beach State 