in that there's an insufferable
immediacy of the heart...
whereby: a mind...
   and some "unbearable lightness"
      of ontology
is of little of no concern...
or that there's poetry like
there's carpentry...
         that there's the chinese
school...
              and people in the west:
who like fudge-packaging
narratives... the drama brigade...
etc.
  therefore no revision
therefore no "re-working"...
just what's writing:
not what's being written...
beside the heart having
nuances and labyrinths
for blind people...
       or the 5:1 ratio with an elephant...

it's so imperfect: but in that...
there's no reason to return to...
what's otherwise something akin
to ******* against the wind....

for a loss in enthusiasm...
for there to be no: and noah
praying for the whittle bits
of "excess" rain...

                 all the walls with
enough braile to catch cue
of the forgotten nose tip
with the two boggled tow
"oopsies" brigade...

                 there's a scenario
where an umbrella is to be used...
it either rains...
or it shines pwetty nostalgic...
and that's the end of
any proto-
                    "desires"...

          there's always then
that grand cispher in lingo...
that's like some smart-*** h'america
making comparison to
a mcdonald's on a dead-end
"concept" of a sunday evening
like he or she is
gesticulating with
bloom authority with and ottoman
               vizier...

it's just not that impossible...
if english: beside the people...
and if there was...
a "diaspora"...
   i see diaspora as pockets...
quantum and eventualities...

      but the conundrum
of entire continents?!
  
   my mother says: i'm still surprised
you haven't emigrated from
england...
i.e. to... where?
the fridge, the moon...
the loitering broom and "windy"?

england is somehow the old worst
where h'america is the best new?
or australia?
    even if... to seek...
the economic... furthered...
futility...
   "it can only get better"...
             that truly depends on...
what's the expectation surrounding...
a... "betterment"...

i see a vision!
         a cul de sac with an extensive
-esque dealings with Horace...
       i also see... a lawn of envy...
i see a tree...
it doesn't matter that tree i see...
but a wundersehen...
   i see a shadow...
         a tilt of frowning...
  somewhere where i can become:
inconveniently my best: disposed...

where i can find... english arrogance...
that's too lazy to become militant...
chameleon myself into a tidy
nugget of a mathematical puzzle
within how: shoelaces are...
bilingually mingling...

             a borrowed echo for a footstep
toward the ambition
of a mangling endeavour...
effortless words...

                perhaps "english" and perhaps
"arrogance"... but always the best...
in that... i will never visit
the maldives...
  nor will i have myself fitted to
a tailoring on savile row...
          second skin: tattoos...
maldives...
                  it's becoming too exhausting
to breathe with expectations...
there's no nuance there's
this old borrowed "saying"...
             stereo-typical... attempts...
focus bleeding.

the toothache conquered the lion...
the unicorn...
    the unicorn...
                   me and the youth
of elsewhere...
                      in the continental share
of the anglo-"diaspora"...
       best i weave myself with
some spanish...
   and end the expectations
of my mother's whims
on the crease that denotes
a geography akin to:                 Peru...

as i... will... beside the invested ambitions...
otherwise tow to tilt
the clepsydra of: peruse:
the odd braille... and the...
looking for vowels in 'ebrew.