Wikipedia Poem, No. 993

see now don’t you? the the languages, dialects,
pidgens and stop drinking orders. i’ve stories. piles of love
in northern new jersey. anna, here’s nothing.

this government of language. i am the languages, dialects, pidgens stop drinking.
i’ve stopped drinking. i’ve stopped drinking. i’ve stories. piles of them in northern new jersey. anna, here’s nothings i’ll never sort. somehow i have to wake me up. stop drinking. the thing. this language. i am on fire.

same; languages, dialects, pidgens. stop drinking this language. i am the same; language. i just need one go again: no randomly scattered across thousands and ideograms. i am.

the language. i pray, sure, but to love my perception allows. short hand my perception allows. the shores of northern new jersey. anna, here’s a good car crash to find weird little answers hidden under the thing. i’ve stopped drinking. the thing left of books and ideograms.

i just need one to go again: no randomly. just need one good car crash to wake me up. have you stopped drinking? the thing left of lawns
allows. short of new jersey, anna,
here’s nothing i’ll never sort. somehow i have to find
love interminable things left
of mind a bit of lawns in all things can’t love allow
new jersey. anna, here we are at the car crash scrounging about for a bit of language, dialect, pidgens and
ideograms. i am the languages, dialects, pidgens and stop. i’ve stopped drinking. there was a good car crash found in love in northern new jersey. anna, here we go car crashing to wake me up. crash to wake me up. pray, sure,
but find weird little answers hidden under
the things
i’ll never sort, somehow.

i have to wake me up. of vain stories. piles of
lawns in northern new jersey. anna, go crash cars to love.
anna, here we go crashing into a bit of the language, dialects, pidgens and ideograms. i just need one go again: no randomly scattered across thousands of lawns.

it allows. new jersey, anna, here we go again finding there’s nothing to love in northern new jersey. anna, here’s all the nothings i can’t love in northern new jersey. anna, here we go again: nothing randomly scattered across thousands of books and ideograms.

i am the same: language.
i pray, sure, but find weird little answers
hidden under brittle
languages, dialects, ditches.