We got hot past the marker in a cloud of
Being still, a "gradual" practice to set
Open to adversity in the jet stream
Hair cream floats thru the air
And tried to genie perfume back in
Dust. Becoming a curved bar,
The comb, people's bodies, purses and clothes losing teeth
Takes the sky in my face out of a tired head.
Lines adopt the refused force and aim out.
Visualizable roads I mentally concoct
Made still and strong by the eye
In 1st gear wobbling past
Coming off corners, wheedling into compartments
Where two lie buried in their answers to
Win back somehow, territory lost somehow or other
Running around the waist
With the details of the hip.
Composed of nitrogen oxygen and trace
A finger along
The rich topsoil all duration
The hoes meanwhile in rakish light
Make a right turn in the chernozem
Leftly buffeting the air. Just starting up
Juicing the memory
Of a melody carried rotting in black wax.
Timing is the key,
Schubert is in the alley
Looking for a way out from behind the mobile comma
Of recent hair on the page nuzzling for attention.
Lines adopt the coloured cloth and
Aim out food fills how "good"
An omelet provides notorious gardens
Slice to reveal the darkening air
You brush away with a back of the hand :
Do your arms glow?
Why is twilight narrow :
In a silver bowl,
Not far from the bed at the back of your neck.
Lace fingertips, a fresh wind blowing up dust
This model mind protects
On either side of the glass
Squeezy verbs indent, tapping at windows
Commas like glasses wine without headlights
The apperception ("splash") to carry in the head
"Little scuffy motors"
Shalling the dirt bikes of the intellect
Thru the fog of a picture-perfect beach.
"Splash" the scenery blisters at 70mph
Pirates grab at things
In the throes of a "rash" of reflections
Bald sky oiling the ground the waves bending
Report to the doctor
With a stiff upper lip. Fog
Detains the miniscule diamonds
Or, clouds evoke grey
From this perspective, providing alleys
Blocked by a fulminating X the doctor
Takes out his flashlight. Lamplight displays gear
Lemon wedges thriving in moonlight speech and glue
Soaked in fog
Dipped in a disguise of day before night
Whatever time feathering rivulets
The bed is eating figs under the coverlet
Waves receding under the Cadillac of bays.
Striking a pose when the wind drops a phrase
The sun attacks, runs from associations
Toward abbreviations, i.e. a glass of water, the ocean
"Dirt bikes marshalling"
My sense of duration which is short remains skeptical
I could sit and be jealous over distinctions
Fluffed-up seats are trained to attention
Mud hens hoist themselves up to the level, waves rotund,
Postcard, the seedless eyebrow pencils
Charge with a static that binds as their heads are pressed