Prepare your fire.
Wear a song.
Till we travel to look at
bell tongued birds
in havoc green.
Atop shaped leaves, and two wet
cats, scarcely open
taunt the sky
black trundling queens. tearing a beautiful moon. through the great bell glass. cracked across. these others. in mourning for his holy cock. while white tulips. bow down his bones. holding before their own white flesh.
I nearly go extinct.
banana gas set against flint.
fiery tempered steel.
especially commercial stitches tauten.
reeling from the steam
of chaining possessives
