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It’s your turn, Roger. The whole world’s not nuts!
You earn your eye and the vastness vanishes
under the brick of an oily blanket,
only the doodles don’t dare crack the count-
ing houses. Setting in motion something like
actuarial imbrication (hor-
tatory lamentation), as if bal-
looning bulbs. Say slither in the case of
presumptive hitherance - you know, the
tuck around the tootle, mickey mousing
with the brass lunge. There are barbells in
the pantry, second shelf above the sag,
then a pound or two later all alone
with just your motor bike for a conscience.
I’ve got two of those & a speaker for a
light. |