welcome to space

static chairs of electric; grounded through the radio space us, humans, share.

gaseus wit, forthought from the backend, knot, and surfed like an internet of oohs.

funny, and aired, from the broadcast.

now the beat starts, to wobble, warble again.  fixtured and fixed like a game, or was it a sliht repair in the now autumn skies.

our hearts, mass, return electrically, from the skies to earth, from that last night and an expection of another, o0.  its these days as nights grow longer that hearths that feeling of . . . . well.. a past just passed, or around the corner some more for another look, or a step over, mind the cracks.

the stem which is our glass to peer over and drink is also where we plant our feet, as it flows as to resticulate, never a leaf to waste, just feed the earth which feeds us.

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its in these moments, to real-ease-ify and re-economize those bits we do have, and hold, which by the way, I hadn't have known before long ago, is the literal all-the-time way to keep a pack of rabbits safe in the harboring of thought and forthwittingness which is our heavenly connection.  astrally, we may, as choice, stray, or stroll, for a-stral, is even, and odd, that. glib.

chip away, as we might, like a slice of potato with a bit of factory cheese, be a maze, and get out, hah hah.

I find, things sometimes never, and rarely always, but in those endeavors, there is something, or things, at all times, and these are those times for that, why and how are up to us.

blood pushes sparky thought aside, as it rushes past naught all, to get to that bit of random muck in our stomach, and pass by it does.  the quickest way not to eat is fast.

so volume of sound it also a tenent is our brains and an interferrence in the teeth chatter which makes a sound into the inner sanctity of ear, for another.

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so where in this time is, actual love.  if it must exist, is it musty, or does that light have some things to say about it --

characters fly bidirectionlly, as text, texture, excited by a tune, in-tune, in step, in the what age, wattage, power flour doughy space muck googot your back, ooze.

watt matters, as energy to matter and back to energy thrice more from nothing, as it was created once, from the beginning, at a time, quite singularly for the plural purpose of being.  see, it doesn't make a sound when its true.  not during, anyway . .

so quite quietly, we press on, figdet digits, of its and figs for leaves, dig it?

pairing our pears up, with a punch get got spikey mash of what was poured into the bowl at a school party, without a sense.

in this day and age, it is precisely afternoon on a strong day for the week, and juxtaposed for that, is an alignment of carbon atoms, or were they freds or nicholsons, perhaps they were perry's or sandra marker blotter frond dotters.

in anyness, that wraps up the current interest in staying current, with a bit of warm whether or not to have the animatronics move just a bit more, for your listening pleasure.

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peace plus love from the isle of in and a bout a smallish pad of fluff on the seaboard side of a very squarely flowy city sided dicey oo pot frolic gastro-spasmotic gesturing bits of san francisco -- aqua q