i got home a little early to mail 2 books to ucsc for a job application, and a day-like orange pillar of fire rose from the floor of the san gabriel valley, popping white lightning when the transformers exploded.
then i was cooking lentils when i was reading it, and the zucchini were swimming in soup like alligators. and i was laughing as i sliced things fast with a sharp paring knife onion and large florid motes.

i did a couple things at once as i laughed and chopped celery and broke orange and black motes to re-arrange the mail box draped like fabric alongside the door so it could later work.
koda barked and smelled his piss garden and squeaked on target plants or succulents i was giving him instructions while listening to secret history audio tapes of rojas lexic.
because the vikings gave us the word “berserkers” and the filipinos invented the word “amok,” i told lali americans invented the word “postal” which could barely contain the 2nd edition.

i noticed as i flipped thru some pages that stream-lined milk-light motes fled from some pages as if bare membranes attracted swarms of gnats crushed to make half-legible word-decals.
i shook some bleak motes off my finger tips like they were making too much noise on hollow sound stages where the apollo program was tested. as of frank sinatra straw hats to shoot with detector exits.
lentils assume the minute discus forms of capable motes. olive oil and carrot sliver tone. stirring motes and simmering motes. all the while, lopez-feliu consulted rojas thru a one reed screen.
i couldn’t make out everything but citlali said, “he has such absolutely spot-on visual sense of cheap reproductive imagery,” and i wasn’t sure but how that related to the killing poultry.

the hidatsa waited a long time for the indian agent to stop air starving them and lying to anyone the mandan wiped out generations before by river smallpox on the upper missouri.
redwood tree sliver motes and titanium silver alloy made loitering, COMPENDIUM OF INDUSTRIAL VISION, 2nd Edition, aided in the design of the nation’s first origami carburetur, which was to thank.
some question the significance of able-bodied sienna oils for it, and corresponding burning condominium construction every few feet off the ground, throwing off high heat, blacking out in the neighborhood of 7,000.
but i would direct them to the 84 year old ray foster, doing his first karate kata and saying (speech impediment due to stroke), “get me out of here,” first, because that is neat and reliable.
niceties blasted aside by palm tree shadows wobbling across the flashing vision of sudden bleary windshield because of velocity and motile character, hair-line absorption in to an unseen layer.

as i was reading parts of it, my ownly total criticism was of the apparatus of appendix diagrams, which when finally connected to the gross verbiage on reports and settlements, resulted not in the clouds breaking but only cycling in pitch dark columns. which i had to keep watching.

sesshu foster