midnight snack


the bathymetric surveys are complete, the pressure

reader says to please plant a hundred spuds into

R&L temples; this is the epi(gr)(t)aph of an insane person; I’m well aware

it’s just that Woody Allen and Phil Lesh are at opposite ends of the tightrope

in dinky mankinis singing Andrea Bocelli in round,

overwrought and underwrought & caught

assright on the tightrope—

I am the effulgent tidying of hairpins on your Victorian Ghost

princely constellations of nectarines

I want to pick every last one.


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