concealing the course of the dark-winding rill
the lazy mist hangs from the brow of the mill
in grey tails of monoxide breaths to whip the sun
how keen fate pursues my geranium petals
I paint them on my finger-toes
haunt the sunlight
become the analogue of a photon
hear the piano-players giggling at the corners
insult the queer vermicular dynasties
spit on patron saint of Norway
deliver myself
extend below the baseline!
my whole body seems to slant forward in an inquiry
constant suppresion of the western hemisphere
ambiversion amending the syllables
swells out appointments in cylinder blooms
written notes anchor beside my small delicate bones
the aurora channels its way through the chapter-ring
as storms of golden grapes increase the droppage
human remains wash the weeds that are not trimmed
in a perfect roulade of semitones
rummage the ground from its sunken cheeks

grimaced hermits creeping around the dome at sunset
whispering numbers to me balance
in the black gown of the wind
dragging their fake tails
in a dosage of regurgitated sounds converted
inside the boxes of my sinews

postscenium gate-keepers
rack the wood-pigeon piercing
as if salamandrian gazed

Titian's colours
leaving no sign of its visit
yellow pollen
now carried along

I drag my moth-eaten left foot over my right foot's ankle
expiate the many-colored dome into his cyclopic eye and utter:
what sheep-skin boots I have!
I salute your vertical sault, framed
overture for earth's swallow skin
I envy your plumed pride override
against the paranthelion passage
into the burlesquian synchron dance
in the (in)tegument!

you, old-maid found the cord to tie up my heals, huh?