warm and white all over like the black Alpha channel; the dead poet has the queen's face in the dark time of the year to go snooch hunting with the state of green mixed with white; Radio's big child goes to sleep in the left hand corner and I, the living Jesus, Maria dreams to find golden in order to form the United States Americans handpicked poetry; And the blood of phosphorus in the soldiers; For those years, that appeared on her ***** they call at the rate that is in hell to a wife or a girlfriend in the future; Of the sickness, which the women had to choose, the blue, the sky, or the kids, to do as of history.

Black Alpha Channel warms to the white head
resting at the feet of the dead poet
who has to face the queen of something dark in that period of the year
for which the fair snooch is the death of a large green state
as the Beaming young big skin of the sun shines
into the left corner of money, INRI the living Jesus,
sees seas afire, forming on the United **** Of Golden Dreams, finds poetry;

the stars of the blood of the war live,
the calling rate is said to them of old slippery *****
with hair hell male or female the wife of the future;
Sky blue soccer kids out like women
choosing to coin a word of history;

American thinking the baby is the cool young boy,
lost his gold called the real body, a specific book;
a walk across the stream behind River High, Spirits
who had turned yellow with water on his Hands;
poet children coming to drink from him at the door
open mouths full of dental work,   St. Igor drunk
and listening
to the better side of the ancient airtime's running
  agreements