I concentrated and I marred the past year the pass a rose.    Larry Holmes versus Muhammad Ali.    Shit, man, sad as shit.    Depresses the hell out of me.    I like boxers.    I like Muhammad Ali.    Not his personality necessarily or his ego -- but that ego -- what an ego -- but his boxing and his transformation of his boxing -- from elusive speed and dancing to when he got slow and resorted to all the dirty tricks, laying on the ropes and holding behind the head like he did in the Rumble of the jungle -- not that I advocate dirty tricks, but you do what you can -- no I like the transformation of style -- it was a necessity -- sometimes things do end terribly and before you expect them to -- and it ends.    I took a deep breath and I sighed.    It’s sad to see a fight go.    Marie are you now stealing?    Yes she steals -- cut off her hands.    Be kind.    Marie are you stealing?    I’ll not knock again -- I’ll not knock -- I’ll knock you around.    I know -- sometimes I know -- moving through water the water is quiet and moves.    Evening rolled and bartered.    Evening gamed and glossed like candy and a Marie is a preparation.    Meg says we all grow up to be boring people.    Meg says we all grow up to be boring.    After a long time, everything is a bore.    I bore meg very easily -- but I never talk to her -- no I never talk a Meg and I only recite to myself I know I am know and that is for certain.    I do not know a Meg like Meg knows.    I should ask her what her favorite ice cream flavor is.    Then one knows.    One knows everything after ice cream -- then I suppose it’s all boring afterwards like doom is boring.    Meg I adore you, I said.    No I think I said I admire you but perhaps I meant adore although I do not know what distinguishes one worthy of adoration from another.    I’m sure she’s a bore.    Boredom is worthy of adoration.    Meg says it’s hard -- it’s difficult to lead a boring life.    Claude Levi-Strauss died today.    I never met him.    I heard of him in Sinfonia (Luciano Berio is dead too.    Everyone ages and dies.    Some die before they age.    Others just age.    All bored.    Bored themselves to a coffin) I have heard him mixed and tumbled unnamable and I recall -- to recall is to remember but without subjectivity
		Raw							Cooked
The raw felt like rain.    The raw felt like differentiated form.    Raw is thought and raw is myth when first thought.    It feels good for the hands.    I feed my dreams and leave it raw, almost painful.    To cook is a process of Destruction -- destruction is an act of transformation.      Vivian girls half butterflies.    Vivian girls halve butterflies and cooking is half raw in death, often as interpretation dies or withers like raw feathers -- often ghosts -- often drink offerings -- forgets transformation and becomes a bore or a primitive terrain.    The primitive terrain is the Wasteland God send behemoth and Leviathan to forage and multiply -- chariot wheels interrupt the formation.    Fresh are corpses but they decay very quickly.    Blues in Bb or Eb.    I don’t know whether he or she which is, cooked for flesh and took the bones back from the crusade.    One drags them among horses.    Decay the last whip forgetting sound.    Drags tempo those horses do, wrapped I was never a text (I’m not supposed to talk about why my sister was taken away… they fucked her) One hundred is sometimes a lot.    One hundred is sometimes a lot.    One hundred is time -- half-decayed time -- Elle half decayed and disappointed.    I’m weary of disappointment.    What does hell feel like?    A lot of dead and lonely people.    They stared at te face of God and how many God kills.    Elaine said she’d play Leonard Cohen at my funeral.    Leonard Cohen reminds me of some kind of neon darkness.    Leonard Cohen is good for a funeral.    Elle is a set for destruction.    Elle is a compass for destruction.    The set belongs to a weapon.    Elle was memorable.    Elle dropped and set for destruction.    The set belonging to a weapon or a short crisp hook.    We put on our boxing gloves -- they were her boxing gloves -- we went backyard and backyard and entered the set -- no territory but entering and we fought a playful fight.    Meeting -- one to meet -- and to play for wedding -- no I remember clearing the set dropping out or dropping in twenty four hours either twenty four one goes or bellying bass.    Elle married Elle boxed.    Here’s the nightingale -- it bursts into song abruptly -- then there’s the cornrake short, long in the high grass of the meadow -- the bird was long gone -- slow distant lunar sounds -- repeated two, three, four times -- generally three.    Four -- the umber of opponents of Muhammad Ali that are in the boxing hall of fame -- Sonny Liston, Ken Norton, Joe Frasier, and George Foreman.    Muhammad Ali’s record against them:    7-2.    Why is Ken Norton in the boxing hall of fame?    My dad says.    He beat Muhammad Ali, I say.    I saw that fight, he says, it wasn’t anything.    He broke Ali’s jaw!    I say.    I saw that punch, he says, lucky punch.    Elle boxed and broke.    She destroyed and birthed.    She is naturally a Mother.    I overturned and clustered.    I dreamt nothing I remember.    Megan is an interesting reflection.    Megan is an interesting question.    Perhaps I changed -- perhaps I destroyed -- you would destroy, Elle says, together would we be at our worst.    I dreamt nothing I remembered.    Outside is the Wasteland.    The descent beckons as the ascent beckoned.    The female Leviathan slew and flesh to be used for the banquet of the Messiah.    Wodewose woodwose the wild man.    The trains move swiftly.    Grazes the melon patches and plucked up gazes struck shift into the eyes of her slayer -- Elle and I boxed hanging from trains.    She laughed ahead of me.    I laughed afterwards.    Elaine and I spoke and I read to her aloud.    Yes, but what dose it mean?    Elaine says.    Why does it mean?    I say.    Sound does not mean.    Sound is revelation.    Elaine hates the word “lovers”.    I never had a lover I was never close to someone.    The afternoons are very long.    I walk the complete house.    I walk the Completed House.    I arch the completed house -- it doesn’t do her any good.    Inside goes and prays and the house is a subtle refuge.    Come on up to the house.    Come on up to the blue.    To describe the rooms is a long walk.    A walk around the Completed House.    It bangs like a Winchester.    House is Twelve.    A house is divided in Twelve or it comes together in Twelve.    Jimi Hendrix through the desert hearing his train coming -- hear his house coming -- end freeway.    The desert does not end.    Twenty Mule team road.    It builds and drives.    Don’t know what these trees are called.    Desert trees.    Subject to flooding.    The vast is groundling and rough road.    Red house over yonder.    Begin freeway.    Begin entrance.    Barstow, CA.    Harry Partch found the hobo inscriptions there.    As good as cry.    Travels as much.    As good as any.    My brother sleeps and cradles.    Ghost town RD two miles.    Saw dinosaurs behind Peggy Sues 50s Diner.    Near clinghop top the rubble top clean the insert inside a completed house inside a completed highway flat smooth the desert hitchhiked or attempting to trail.    It’s shaped like buried fingers -- palm downwards.    The long neck of the giant fell downwards burying his head like an ostrich.    Perhaps the remains of an unknown dinosaur.    Very big.    The monsters assembled and descends a great distance borders bodies.    All over field over all fields over morning mooring moving through bodies and dusk preserved bodies present bodies filled all over field over moving mooring morning we moved through before tusk -- before the desert and after the desert -- before the wasteland and after the wasteland -- civilization originates in the desert.    Out of the desert comes thought form golems and UFO’s -- Out of the Desert is defunct tobacco and vending machines -- Lucky Strike means fine tobacco -- wouldn’t that be dangerous?    Sometimes it is dangerous terrifying the desert is terrifying civilization is terrifying and one is a wanderer throughout the desert -- flatland -- earthland -- multiplying from the desert -- stacking whale bones from the former flood or frozen from a glacier that straddled the valley a cross piece of cloth.    The whole desert burned in a blue field -- the whole Whale burned in a blue field -- automobiles runback whale vertebrae -- whale blue vertebrae -- automobiles across decayed dinosaurs over the desert -- twisttum band in straight roads mostly straight roads clockwork spring cogging automobiles sprouting a key turnwind sprinting push like watchboxes -- wheels matchboxes opening and closing clasps and burning towards bodies sulfurous bodies budding wheels and gears bit teeth chewing bit teeth and burrowing desert.    The desert is an underground cavern and an extension field web wise tracing and carries the length of the desert and all animals and metal flood the caverns.    Animals freeze and pass through glaciers and automobiles.    I pass the fear of automobiles post desert rushing and thread road pass pines desert postdesert curtain needles and snakes -- sea snakes in the underground lake mapping the underground sea devouring the dipping whale bone, that massive calcium and the water seeps salty and decayed matter -- the water floods the surface and the living and dying follow.    Mechanical automatons carry the refuse.    Much is carried.    Venus de Milo is a mushroom cloud, fifty-seven megatons.    1000’s of beautiful women and three ugly ones.    Here down a myth from the desert here town a myth from the south where I wanted to meet John Coltrane before he died and died he did and sometimes it’s a terrible thing to be born after.    I feel sober.    Sometimes it topples it moves with the sincerity of a blank.    I feel lamentation.    I feel sober.    I feel blank.    I avoid.    I watch Evander Holyfield on TV.    The television is a watchtower.    I think memory.    Memory returns and one remembers or sees a third person or a fourth person.    If one can avoid one avoids and counts.    Maddy escapes.    Maddy escapes into a sun wrapped in pillowcases.    No one kidnaps her but her.    Going to coming lamentation lamentation or recites laments like one recites numbers -- one recites numbers in lament and perhaps remembers childhood.    Grass stalks imitate a rainbow.    I stopped because I was tired.    I stopped because I was useless.    Summer I first noticed your hair your face your eyelids -- they were afraid of dying in cars.    Your first summer, all four of them were dying.    Real gods flowers flower people pauses.    I noticed your hair your face your eyelids.    Summer transforms summer summers myth and reminds on corners.    The corners are crossroads and triangles.    Corner is circle and summer circles and corners.    Summer reproduces.    Summer anticipates and one anticipates the long summer, the summer where it takes a long time to reach midnight.    I sigh and time and contemplate summer reoccurs.    Krystal spoke to the corner and examined.    Lament examines mooneve and silver and speech harbors lamentation and long tone.    It burns and does not worry.    The summer is beautiful.    Summer summers beautiful.    Lara summer the sun is beautiful green as kryptonite sunning green gloria green green wind green seen bear mirror function the form summer formed summer formed summer on the corner in form in the mud glorious green in the moss glory green in the moss seeming as a salamander Krystal numbers and Krystal numbered, secret seth and seen cut between edges.    I love you like the sun.    This is whom I love like a sun which kills without hesitation and all light is all light and there is no difference in light.    There is no difference in light and I love without hesitation.    The light is green y and myrde orange and the lights coals eyes and lizards (green lizards; lizards flecked with diamonds) peradventure midsummer even for a good mar dare die I speak a secret language.    I speak salt an in cavern morgans may.    Children practice cursive.    Dying is a hard thing to number.    The sun will die four or five billion.    There are another four or five billion.    The universe is a scribble.    Scribbled a universe summer scribbled thirty spokes share the wheel’s hub; scribbled summer drew the courtyard.    the center makes it useful.    Into the dark central park.    Sunflowers staying scribbled in summer and sighed diagonals -- various diagonals -- who knows where the hell what.    I’ve never seen a firefly.    Hardly my butterflies.    I was young and there were dozens of white unidentified butterflies -- butterflies grazed the bushes -- never seen them since.    Benjamin is a myth.
Mad Meg borrowed Mab marred my meg borrowed -- Meg mer merry mixed Meg Meg madness I witnessed.    Meg mythologizes mer marred my memory and borrowed mix meg Mad Meg Meg not mad at all 	Mad Meg borrowed Mab and mixed and I borrowed a Mab and Meg mixed led my memory.    Meg injures.    Meg eats chocolate chip ice cream.    Meg mythologizes meaning as if I do not know her.    I do not know her.    Her favorite ice cream is chocolate chip.    Do you know everything now?    She asks me.    No, I say, I know nothing.    I now an ice cream flavor.    Meg fasts -- Meg fasts and speeds a myth.    I want bubblegum ice cream and chocolate chip, Meg says.    I never had bubblegum ice cream.    It’s sweet and bubbly, Meg says.    Virginia Woolf and Willa Cather wrestled naked.    The bathers -- Meg upon the bathers confront the blue mock Spain mock on te running towards running as bonny goes out for a run.    Meg    the Enemy Meg the Nemesis runs the bathers confronts blue sturm rain and die.    My hands feel their off their front.    My hands feel off their paper.    I told someone in conversation you were my archenemy, I tell Meg.    I don’t know the difference between an archenemy and a nemesis.    Archenemy is someone you hate, Meg says, as Nemesis is someone you respect.    I don’t you hate, I say, it must be the latter.    My hands drag and rattle.    A parade of bathers and Meg from the shore lovely megs lovely mass -- it’s a turing.    Meg so lovely band gone parade -- gone and towards Meg Mad said.    If I sleep, I will die.    If I die, I will sleep.    I cannot sleep.    Sleep is a trickster.    One’s eyes close and sheep comes over like an incomprehensible language.    I’d like a rocking chair.    I will rock back and forth.    I will carry a large gun.    I will not get up from my rocking chair and fire a few shots.    I do not know if its an intruder or a child.    It doesn’t make a difference.    A body does not differ -- it makes death just the same.    I suppose I fell asleep -- the breathing changes -- when you’re asleep you don’t know you’re asleep -- but the breathing changes and my eyes opened, interrupted -- my eyes opened and interrupted the breathing and I listen -- ser sara sign listening to Philip Guston lie back and smoke a cigar / One dies one dies often after other dies one hundred then one hundred (the largest number in the universe is one hundred) once one hundred again one hundred laughing often dead dwelling.    I lived through no war nor was I around killings.    I am horrified horror was cognition or horror was the cogs.    I keep reading insects.    I keep reading insects -- their bodies their outside skeletons their feelers their chirp sritch errr and buzz.    One feels with their hands.    This is a reading a month without a face
It’s somewhat endearing
It’s somewhat charming
It’s horrifying
It feels and slips.    It’s a hanging with a jaw open.      It’s hanging with two jaws agape.    It has human teeth.    It land flutters and mews small noises.    It burns a little.    It takes little space.
Looking like a baby
Looking for its newborn brother
Looking like a Sister to Death
Looking for Sisters, reading swarms of insects skeletons a blanket of insects looking to die before the bathers before Paul Cezanne and Emile Zola naked in the River -- Meg ends or when Meg ends she is no difference.    Meg does end or Meg ends thus is no difference.    I’m surprised very little at measured differs a Meg or Megan which differs.    The Megaton Bomb is for you.    Meg and the Swans is for you.    The Rainy Place was for you or it became you but I was not surprised because I made it your image and I admired your image, where it often rains or is a tall mountain where Gary Snyder watched for fires.    The rain makes no difference to the fire.    I make no difference to Meg (among her swans among her peacocks -- quails stuttered and rained above the forest) Meg makes no difference.    Perhaps I made a difference or perhaps it differs or perhaps change does.    Meg says it makes no    difference.    History is a dying thing in that it’s a human thing.    Humans are no different.    They are not one thing but follow -- not differing or deferring but existing.    A person is an existence.    One is an existence and has no action on does not witness an action.    Action makes no difference.    History is without person.    It is a time.    History is a time with no person and even the person mentions only mention and there are only memorials and no actions.    Actions precede memorials but the actions make no difference and only defer to event with no action or the action is inevitable.    The action is inevitable and history becomes itself without any person or rather History persuades a gentle humanity towards event and memorial.    It made no difference or te change are merely the feeling of events and passes an event passes one passes on it’s nothing.    One falls flat is a corpse persons passing and die -- a person dies very easily -- it passes little mourning and in several mornings and forgets -- I often forget or one forgets the I -- passing and falling into death passively with no difference and space is space regardless of whether bodies and decaying in it or there used to be a battlefield where soundsomay carved each other up with no choice or much lack a choice and if they did choose it made no difference anyhow for one dies and one dies and who remembers except for a few who will die too.    Meg fauns a no happening just events nothing happens only occurs and Meg occurs too Meg dies or Meg fauns a choice megs no different a Meg Meg dies did Meg die yes it occurs but it never happened and here is how Meg choose anyway difference Meg you seem different yes it makes no difference Meg Meg Meg oh die / Levi is an odd fellow Leviathan follows a duck !duck! Duck is an aberration and to feed a duck ducks Leviathan and swarms.    Ducks swarm ducks fat ducks they look well fed Levi they look well fed and Levi’s first duck is an aberration and bread is a whole city crammed into few or three minutes.    A bread is a duck !duck! Bread and swarms well-fed you fat duck and ducks frightens a Leviathan.    Levi odds and feeds ducks swarming aberration and to throw is to lead a duck and a duck follows a throw.    Ducks swarm and bite Levi on the hand and a bite is a surprise !duck! And Levi cautions but does not fear.    A Levi prevails over duck !duck! And a duck well-fed.
Christina (Marie full may for bloom of bloom bloom a tall redwood a fallen coast pine God from the Old Testament.    Two halves a calf bloom for bloom Marie through a slain, sometimes an animal sometimes a male or female.    Conspiracy is memory to memory is to group.    A certainty appears new as things are certainty.    No one rounds a lin as no one reads the balance and circuit of fleeing chickens.    Volt and air is 300 years o.d.    Gertrude Stein is all the possible iterations.    
(Marie is encoded in volt and air
(Marie is a necessary Christian
(Marie is a bride selecting her wedding dress
	It is a terror
	It is a short story
(Marie happened to be sick and destroyed various handouts on a lathe or moving table
(Marie is a code for mystery