Skeleton
Up from a cutting
Straight knife through blue
Vein jack to traffic timpani
Through hoards a thrumming lobes
Little brittle neck line
Not much tube to thorax
Yet yelps the perturbed-ly at lack’s
Staunch vicissitudes of weight loss
Your mongrel mouth
Stops short at bone
But bone comes ever after
As reanimated shoulder jags
The Jarring swing and flex
Tumbles limp armed after.
Bone
Slugging from the down
Bent wagon typicals a rhythm stew
Brain squeeze she brushes knots
Because a churning squalor
Ticks juices out of temples
Speak neck notes to zipper
Dimples unhurried vents
Wind tubes out of symmetry
From half lives clawing
Until decay
No call signs left aggrieved
Afterwards ever nerves
Spaghetti-ed juice and slither.
No comments:
Post a Comment