we value the salad role as combatants
& your beauty depends on a fluorescent bulb.
mawkish. my father drank tomato juice with pepper,
climbing straight from a shortlisted collection,
dripping liquid chunks. i speechbubble him ‘abracadabra’.
painting on the bildungsroman moustache as he gets her in
the end of all ends, maybe bus-stop fracas whir,
eggtimers, or you, aren’t, much, too look at gulls
might be informative & pop-gun leftovers
just reflect the defunct tv tray.
teddy rupert assays my dreams with upright force (gloating
you’ll see my astronomic curve (though the errors even in
books on poetics (nothing comes out of america), things
persist while the research into things is a new lemon
flavoured drink. help us make some cast-iron brackets.
the going fishing myth still get vouched for, swollen
into a mindset that turned erotic.