Work is boring today. You can only know so much about Softimage and all things 3D. This is meaningless verbal flow. It happens when I manage to get some Neal, speed chess, and modest mouse all in the same room for a weird ass mental party. I don’t think I like writing poems. Hmm.

Verbal constro-detection-shock perfections.

Twice with swords Metaversed on the wireframe render I came down on your slack, violently logical head.

All a glow in the material downfall we caressed like blind hit men in the war room of some long ago sunken battleship.

I am seventeen historic battles, all rolled into the flesh of space between my thumb and chain-wrist knuckle guards.

Pyro maniac Jeet Kun Do.

Strange tactic to kneel and throw all your weight at a centerline

too fast and wickedly in the trance of one mind one action one single upward slash.

Millimeter Radar And girlfriends still in high school if they went to


And poon large, overbearing ice cream trucks.

Neuro-linguistic Hyper Modern chess postures.

I flow like soft coil electric soap. Thrown onto the deck of a gymnasium with painted squares. white and Black. 64 in all.

Battle stems with pawns on end of fanciful flank blindside

Till death or hell nuclear sprinting-to-our-doom kamikaze Checkmates.

Speed slashes on five minute death matches

Where I pretend that this isn’t Neal’s brilliance. But rather the things I see between old cursing men

Arguing over back rank force mates

And endgame virtua crashes.