by Heikki Huotari
Their ignorance is bliss, their circulation perfect. Climbing ice to nonexistence I attribute as I please. It’s minus one AM, do you know where your limbic system is? One balcony per back-up band, one back-up band per crooner and one crooner per croonee, in n-plus-one dimensions it takes n to tango. It’s about the numbers. It’s about the crowding. You’re so
subcutaneous when you have that emotion and so grounded gardens harden in your wake. Erase the page, erase the table, heart strings fall away and hearts blast off. What need have we of roots? But blink, the road crew moves, they’re scrambling for new positions. As the music to the maestro so the discord to the miscreant. From pinnacles I see declivities. When in regalia, I revert to type. Oh
doctor of philosophy, will I be able to play the piano after I have solved the problem of hard solipsism? In deference to the law of gravity the planet moves toward the object. What’s not heart-shaped is what’s not to love. There’s virtue in complexity. The end of chemistry is mix and match. One way to count the combinations is to make a list then listen to constituents while shifting. The beginning and the end of chemistry is mix and match. In what sense physical
or mental are the fluctuations public, private, parallel or perpendicular? A shape begets a shape. In case of broken glass break glass. The first infinity is free. The first infinity is free.