in a scent
it’s
so old
wayly nixed with
tied beegames
illustrated like chimneys eyed
two smokier raids than a gal
aunt lee
you see
said it worst of
them
all you
who would smell of dew
who knew the toes of away
from far
by a glum chew
while ring givers
operate over red rivers
tastingly retreatable in a dodge
of streetcarred tears
drippedly pawned
never owned to go
you veer a bunch
graping seeds
lest a season’s pass
bestir honeyed pasta
to a finally gone-like spoon of now
houses ducked whiter
in
terrestrial tones
lighter
if what mister e
makes
what’s happieringly gluesilly
churn for a chime
to underdo the was
of machinemade fuzz
lusteringly skin-kneed
set to factful settings
contactless
in rooms that move
for less than
starry takes to say
but not see a
gorge
all full with only
us
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