Subjunctive rearticulation project

There must be a crazy power, intermittent instruments and or vehicle. A chain of water, unchained, rippling pages full, while others drop away. I think flashing panoramas, a natural harbor seeped in the sun’s implicit staying, firm ballooning, speechless jest, tittering, momentarily there. Someplace not rip-tooth skyline, girded frozen acetate. Someplace obscure. Someplace not a prophet’s immaculate condensed reality, enforced by piers, plagued by an outside outside, garbing disappearing starlight. There must be in a world of words, uncentered decay, light penetrating flesh to bone, without a conveyor belt construct mapping another absurd rational predicament, something unfurnished, not already saturated with histories whispering sloganism. Someplace the foot falls, surrounded in a medium, clearly falling, gives way to conscious ramifications of air and disremembers walking, falls forward from the old, flowing in a lamp towards drawn supplement of love. there must be a dawn somewhere flashing quick, not plagued by decay and too many billowing words.