somewhere the beat ran off with the maps and the colors fell and
around about the time that those wrens learned about m.k. ultra
the skeletons themselves were funny, so what?
Har har har was something worth saying back when, aye?
'Where's all my eyeballs' said the little bird
'where are my children?'
silent harbors largesse while trees bleach out in the moonlight.
My portable sarcophagus malus falls hollow and rings like
an intelligent moonlet with star drive, with whorls.
all the while, patterns of ansible usage caress geodesic locales
for prophet's sake, and to find him.
each brother fell and I weep and weeping I lay in a lake of ants
for touch. Charon comes. Red Comet. Bearded Star with dreadful
accompanyment approaches. Flay me with atoms.