I just clicked on this link http://www.socpractice.org/

and got a page that says only

You have reached the end of the internet, please go back.

before

after awakened in the river as the feeling of bodied eyes [before the physical’s derangement] afloat along a numbness called home [orations that caused us before they caused home] which has entered memory to collapse it into vast crumbs—this is how a fresh subject imposed its systems [talking of before to inhabit present action] think (that) you speak along the tongue telling nothing [think before is that you speak of your or other speaking] these else to slip and spread in an altered syllable [can this be mimicked before you] one falling alteration that swells to occurrence as a presence pissing in the dressing room as well as not pissing or make a room a territory [the seeing of it before it being owned but then before belonged to those who see now as well] streams cutting it off measure of awakeness—how rush thinking through to touch blurs that mouth a broken or saddle stages to the feel of that collapse [never had such a knife as when I have before] sum of fears befores that come to wars I cannot say flicker underwater
water forced through organs does shed a mercenary light

post-sammich philosophizing led me to this place.

science etsperiments

i like "juicy beans" and "drop it like it's hot" but there are so MANY to love.

diane ward yay

ABSOLUTION

My arms are given
clean away, heaven forgiven.

I live in arms, touched
by sentence, treble up, sentence.

Reaching out across the states,
statements, clear mess of states.

If my fingers were longer, if central,
south, north, if we.

Set free a fortune by taking up
arms, each man must, each woman ...

Purge us of touch, including you,
the weight of emotion above.

I see my feet: footsteps; arms:
touched by delivery, destination.

I suppose I love that too, and you
in a formal setting, deep-heating.

And where, apart from us, motioning
away from us, gesture, come here.

It's gone. They were my arms-
reach within my arms-length.

It's not an airplane, not a part
of me. The motion, not the ocean, comprehended.

This is absolutely untrue. Within
my arms I have. I don't have you.

from Relation

Ezra Pound as your boss

the poetry of the turtle