I did in . . .
crushed the button . . .
din ion catacomb.
No one else amasses such succession.
No one else lets atoms lapse it's simple
classes of metal phenomena, strata . . .
No data-life graphed internally over
yielded such infernal feelings,
thoughts, impressions, things I did . . .
I confess, my fiery.
Diposition lithosphere . . .
(per loss of activity)
I feel it going underground
Far from fences, flatland, highway, city:
into the cracks,
through the flosses, and
past the axe.
As opposed to
natural disaster . . .
the status of spilt guts,
my last experiment:
cement in reference to something.
the sum of all crevices.
Heaven has the air frozen.
Char has a flare for. Irrupting
construction in general: skyscraper, sun,
bus station, pressure,
No one else in the wealthy area.
Only static symbols,
ashy statues grasping at plastic.
It's all still hyperbole . . . semantics:
iota the land and
into the isobar.
The hell up there.