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europaroma roams 'hole o' ol' erf
in a sick bay's shower.
i joust, pasang, auteur...
Less there's
emergency paddock on a padang in deepest penang
where a poet might enhang up and enhangover
a bullshouty parangular
gush eng. gu cheng brain.
For shame! Don't stampede labyrinthine,

minopasangotaur - there's a c utoff charge
of impediments.
No c utoff charge f'rimpediments! Must o bundobustle
all the obsty bulls
hit in a belfry, rubblizing rings: bokk-ONG!
Pronk-****! Prang-BBONGG!
Shuntput all your ibexes in the one all-
terrain andnohow noknowhowishly set
joltheads off in lofts i bexen they'll lower ta
rubble lies.

Bullzinger: was bulsh/shy mouthbull of a man!
Then again, again, i was not yer bumpologically striking
averouge runnerat redrags, i was bottom of panto minotaur.
With a donkeydome,
rude *** health a shelf gored
- 'Bless thee, Bottom, bless thee.
Thou art translated!' ta quote quince -
autopilot beast and automaton burden
that'd reinaway at redpads, unheed fall ofall the inviting
moorish matadaughters. Non-
cowgirls w'also here, mensurating
their oestrus of antioxbitch tics
out in limp pumps, thim blungfuls,
reedy thin insounds of redsides whirring
out their whirth
i hadn't heard - perverse!

Linedead by blabyrinthe walls of a slump,
o daily braying prayereating
darkness onallsidesof hoarse Bull X,
Time ta Timetwo was the dark-ta-be for me,
         me for me ta be
squandered, borderline bard a lame
used tomb being
with no poet's two morrows,
no bi-mañanas poseablethumbs allow.  
But bimanal sands of evanescence evernascent
swon nows now: this was Clare-obscurity of darklonesome longsome Ago:
****** everywhere was over, there
under a distinctly unthere.

Under ozone ox id, hate
as drowsy and bizarre as prayer - by my dearest gods it was stale
as christianity! o my Dear Guard
now receives my love for Her, like a safe butting not a southern 'But...'
It'll be this love of recency even
in the Whenthingareasevenasfailedeverbes
- when we'll all even relieved, ex-ever,
halcyon as hay, wover' like wickerbulls
for weak bulwarks 'low an oilspulyied welkin,
when savaging soil on the seeds' side streamlets in like steamjets
of a spring unexperienced,  loads same subsight foul,
and we're all o ta outer nothingwith nothingin
annihilated without somuch as heroic overandout,
like those 'dimanches de décembre'
when i could not care for life and death's raw hide 'n' seek - i'll remem-o:
Love Came Thru Outta Darkness, that's Light Of What Was Not To Be
So Bad Much Longer.
4 CJ

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