dxc.
Known entry. A
new variety. Zoning
perfection. 'How should

I pronounce your
name?' Everything wants
to fall in

love, races to
stable. Renews vow
to seize land

for a song.

dlxxxix.
Cater to yr
own. Whims to
wings. 'We probably

would have said
'no' if you'd
asked.' But you

didn't. 'Good morning,
Thor.' Terrible back-
lash. Had hours

returned. A nervous
disposition ruined. 'There
will only be

friendlies.'

dlxxxiii.
'Those whom he
even shared food
with.' The burning

barricades. Shouting &
singing. A history
of violence in

ten easy lessons.
Tube probe. 'What
you need to

do to look
like you deserve
a break.' Kind

and clear, original
and unorthodox.

dlxxxii.
Lost Tape. Decay
accumulates across the
system: star-power still

illuminates yr new-found
gravitas. Her death
was ruled. An

attempt. 'Done some
of my best
acting convincing.' 'The

best there is.'

dlxxxi.
Box the new
(uncut) version of
the future; sell

it to the
masses, to the
networks. Offer an

agenda not objective.
Spotless. 'No direct
linkage has yet

been established.' Eulogy
to potential. A
full year after

the floods and
no environment yet.
Vague, unbidden, contrast

with the Romans.

dlxxx.
The scroll dictates.
The passengers react.
'Sometimes it isn't

too pretty to
watch.' 'Predicted' accurately
by the 'writings'

of others.' 'Here'
the trap is
cleanly in plain

view.' List for
building gadgets to
order. 'New blood

just keeps on
comin'.'

dlxxix.
Collapsed into, the
landscape resembled what
we expected: a

horseshoe, an older
crescent, halved. Wallow
in secrets, wallow

in secret: set
agenda for the
next semester. Is

it possible? Probable?
Make sure.

dlxxviii.
'My crew, my
love.' 'O be
quiet!' Fractious embracings

across the fault-
lines. 'Nothing doing
here.' Men in

suits, around a
friendly table: hands
are shaken. Needs

are withdrawn. 'What
a pity - it
looked so pretty

from the air!'

dlxxvii.
Impartial advocate of
nothing much. 'Nothing
if not knotted

up.' Left it
hanging one too
many times. Graffiti

ages everything. 'What
a pile-up!' What
a difference a

day can make
to a work,
diffident, if working

off. . . .

dlxxvi.
There's nothing so
glamorous that working
cannot make it

harder. Every dream
is of you;
every example reaches

out: thinking about
things hits a
brick wall a

little bit faster.
A defter strike.
A felt abandon.