Stabilize circumference matrix transformations for rotations to detourne
turbulence. Stable marks for gun-shot; races, sprints, blood
pounding up from hoof and into heart beat down again, thud.
Spin the races wracking & leap long falling to, fingerly, miss
fjdslkajfsdfdsklfjdskljfdssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
dssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
dsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
sdddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddsdds
Catch instead the glitch notched in jitters up or down till the belt
loop snugs neckly. Long to linger, each finger flips or toggles
in the precise language of mechanics and judo and percussion -
which is not music. Music is the lungs, and remembering how
your whole body is for running, and for squeezing out with that
belt.
Falling, positively derive, and mathematically jerk, precisely described,
circumscribed in numbers remembering each small twist by matrix, a final
drop in the spiked 3rd derivative, a moment crystallized in mechanics so
staccato that, almost, a discord can imagine. But it is not music and
drumbeats stutter, slow
tomorrow morning confined to graph paper, and plucked
point by point map from threespace this holographic universe
flat in the singular whole, holes flushed to points and lines and
on one plane only creeping with maniac worms or stared
at by cosmologists forever.
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