The cat sat.
The cat sat on a mat.
The set cat sat on a sad mat.
The cat sat on a mad sad mat,
A day mat set cat , curious,
.
How said the sat mad cat sat
Or was the sad mad cat
Where or what time, as it
Sat.
Divas and hi, divas low, divas divas sat on very divans, totally absorbed into
Some day
Some way
We should be together
Stop in the name,
Of love how attainedly attuned
How religiously attended to,
As the set cat sad cat
Sat and found a rat, and
Found a bat.
It was a bat,
A bat that was not a rat.
A rat sat sad, and thought
Go forward and don’t object
If I were to imply that
If your object, planned for a future
Based on visions of beautifully admired
1 Narcissus metamorphosis,
Longing to be turned back into looking into a vat.
The cat in a bat, not in a box, trying to get out,
Exit or not,
( he says I invoke the fifth, so that all will understand as an interjection ,
A partially derived , placing , a thing placed in the vat, so the cat, the rat, will transpire as solemn but unsaid, not said, not sad, not dead-
Not to bemoan mostly, connectively that which has been de-objectified, restructuredly de-
analized
dean a durbin, dean analyzed
moriarty dean dream analyzed
Beyond that, injunctively ,
Reset,
While sat sad cad
analyzed looking foreward back.
back and forth ,
for (4) ward and back, either and hither, she thought,
this and that, planning wistfully, imagining archytypically, staunchly defendingly, prototypically, so as if modeling some thing innately jealously guarded.
(As the tiny tot neguilingly starry eyed asking , how now brownly fadingly to blackly sunny, weekly darkly, try to get stuff across to her: backwardly starting missing few timeless listless series of still beautiful shades in greying mist. (( such as Kafka castle, leased from dragul- inveterate channels of rooms some connected under groundly by letters of chaotic lostness forever, ))
And she goes wincingly yet unconvinced back home try to refigure the old neighborhood, and reassemble to the best of her ability the way we were-Streisand under the weather in her digs.
While this goes on reversely in a minor key not to be generally aware of- the major premise generally well accepted.
While this goes on the major premise deconstructed whirring at great pace, continuously without awareness merges
converged
With the silent thought of kitty
purring, as she is lapped by little tyke, to the world either dead, alive.
The major world of deconstruct now at this time the merging that continues underground to converge, to blend, where bits of flim and flam out of chaos form , reform like over come the catholic rule.
Rule to conquer, ( course need to Edith, future past)
Reform was on the mind of many, as Mr Nietzche to his chagrin found the slippery slope unmanageable after the fact.
Isis meanwhile purrs over the slavery of many most bred on diminished capitals of Romanesque futility.
And then me. Crosby, the black sun is irrevocably not worth the price to pay, for same, diminishment of famous poem.
poeticous.com/harry-crosby/ … -mad-queen
And be the Davis eyes says: “what a dump”