at least "appear"
   to appreciate,
        standing in a tuxedo
  (alt. tuck-sssss-
        -e- via D' and an o['H])
"worrying" about a
           lemmings' cliff-end.
i don't know what
i know and i certainly don't
know what i don't know...
but if we're going to
be all h'american
about it?
******...
                just enjoy the free-fall!
at the point of falling
there's no regressor knowledge,
given the lost potential &
anticipation in the theoretical
realm of objects...
      there's but
the potency of engaging
           in the actuality...
which ends up being
solidified toward
  saying anything, but everything
as this:
     ram horns... +... shrove tuesday!
what?!
   am i supposed to
flap my hands in silly
re-animation
  of a sea-gull taking to flight?!
if am... fair enough...
but can i at least
master handling a speeding
train...
while at the same time
inquiring the kid
that wanted to usher in:
choo-choo!
                                 eh?
no... thought so...
*******, on your way then;
why ezra pound
didn't fall in love
with the tao motiff is beyond
me... even now...
scuttling like a maggot
in the life that he became:
post mortem.