between beat 3 and beat 1 (waltz)

there is no approaching

infinity, nothing


or finagled in

roots and the bodied. divining

link and

link invert and

whether letters push

   hollow air or beads

   of jowl. it could

be emerald—be,

could emerald!

or should not—should


been infuriated

since wu. for leibniz

   the people


and fucked

and the lake

was not

placid at all. axes

shift disbanding

salaciousness and there

   is device

that steals

from the magpies



   make usefulness

   smaller, no one

wants to see it, it

is indecent. it reeks

of boredom and

   fuck you, john, who

   was ever bored?

try and ask—