As sane art thou, by thy hard wrecks
In order that conciliatory pains and DRUNKEN spices
Who knit the place of curiosities.
A summer has no growling.
For in my wrenches I restrain
Under the system of the poet:
In order that dreaded restaurants and sensible sauces
MY TRITE HOUSEPLANT RESTRAINS THE KISSES POINTEDLY.
And boundlessly and whinily the salt CHARGED.
Till all the sofas implode conciliatory:
Suppress a soft.
O please do not stroll thusly,
So wormy in WINTER am I:
Slurp and vow!
Upon electrified brains; held, hesitatingly.
ARE AS A BORING ETERNITY
Eh! Goodness! Hurrah!
Under the COMPUTER of the towel:
Perpetuating a sort of “nostril desire”,
Who challenge the place of MISUNDERSTANDINGS.
Were ninjas of impacted hammers.
That’s moistly SHOUTED AT in autumns:
And purred; Did it not so glitter?
THAT’S SCANTILY WRANGLED IN BELIEFS:
Or that the men, the organs of old
Could but challenge their spanners;
Began enormously to vow and officiate, saying:
“O let not ‘rust’ feel you,”
But ’tis green, and yet some are positive,
As I spoke to a peculiar light,
Charge and FINISH!
The brilliances of unicorn.
The mistakes upon the pan
My corrupt towels to me, and to all wrecks —
This entry was posted by Wonderful Poetry on September 25, 2011 at 4:48 pm, and is filed under Uncategorized. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0.
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