2 new ones that for some reason ended up left columned when i copied and pasted are actually more random lined

[Steve Dalachinsky]

The Sheaves (written @ Espace Japon - Paris 1/17/06)     1) the sheaves are small & perfect bound they fit tightly on the shelves spines a spectrum of color bound by their own logic & stories 3 or 4 shades of blue yellow to green the orange that was re(a)d & white liv(r)es black & grey of fallen houses risen cesspools that flowed thru the belly of a dog muddied belly polluted by the policing of weak masters bricked up smiles hanging by thin wires from the teeth of well disguised capitalists why breathe? why hold your breath even for the instant of a turning leaf? here spines become a color chart of history points of discussion before they are cracked here water sails away to another place where the temperature is always sweaty & crisp 2) baby beater sucklin @ ya wannabee da crackle bridge a bird or 2 in flight a misconcept a thrope - back ta yer-in-all spread water like a bark-a-boold @ derpstown wingin language as only pro-active can knocker dood sibling's tongue connective tissue's always con necting something like only conn ecting issues can 3) sore & bushy-eyed wink the back space ether is backset back stage & set up / either crime's in / or climson wrapped the toolshed wannabe or wannadoo walk into the pyramid backward/draw back smell the noceans as re-rights jaggle aside the bacon's tongue cramble 20 - zero to balance along the tracks there's no use stayin til the ballad's finished all en(d)gines strangle the wrangler in the (b)end yer horse is tied & ready ta go this breedless distance to the next broke tool 4) things be always tinted language's spoken here.   (S)tamp(on) (Silva, Bauer, Turner @ Instances Chavires - Paris 1/27/06)   i/b. i am stamped by your beauty you are faun-taped the blding is cold all blding s here are cold / not just the stone but the very guts a synthesis of instance & actuel being the roads splinter & o pen/en (de)a(d) drimboolahas repair still almost all guys find the center & it is ill-fixed a tuck here a nip there sewn/sown briggle-oo chioness catcha wha ga loo brainsells / kin hops rebuilding the world as a lake a beard a bower a silver screen a seescape by turner one mouth speaking in the broil ta ta ta dah dah dah dah dah dah ethereal sentiency 2. (perhaps) i be stamped no pant out o' the mouth o' boiler makers - instinct all move their limbs by it limp lipped a crossed line crossed it is here even in the savage tremble cold so cold these collapsing stairs co-lapsing stares sans light (i lit) ah the lumiere's bootstrings z toned agree please aching sound fingers rigored elbows nala johannes on my……………. nose bleed be one whose pants are held by bottles. af/ ter turn the one whose lens is leffe - ah la blah a glass for drinking pictures a friend to quarrel with momentum if this room were a lake of mirrors i turn into from cold collapse heating up the rem/murd he's heating up the clean head in short sleeeves is beyond being stamped easy as you blow your breath away he makes faces the one whose face is a mirror of listening whose hands remain thinking more than acting i am stamped by your beauty as the world is stamped by a gurgling membrane restored of memory if indeed all were the setting sun on a WIDE street a square where mammals stamped & even bones before them held some fractured scores & failings -                                                   b4                                                    . addendum(s) :                       rudiments gone while(d) another ending                writing as a way of listening.   steve dalachinsky