Not an amulet, an off white vertebrae; bone.
Brass wire, a loop at one end.
It bends as to make sure this will fit.
A gauge that measures mesmerization,
And we both must get along, but
Not because we're not tough enough:
Most of us aren't soft right yet.
So many stiffs, folly after folly.
The whole carful of loose cadavers,
Dangling, their feet hang with wet snow
And carnage,
Not even musk deer pop up,
They've all gone. Roosting in a parabol,
With X's sprayed to their groins.
Burning pop couples
Doing it like laboratory mice. Capybaras
Hiss, my own burnt blood is also
Flocculating.
Turn the cup upside down and
See the fire's balmy lachrymal opaque
Moss while it does not drip.
This is the story of man you asked me about;
Devoid of a muzzle, fur onto his chest; coarse
Hair in a garland.
It is the God of a tool that buzzes into the night.
A plateau for this most sensible study.
We feel another coming.
And when you awoke, your larval tongue
My eye mush, a song of verse and melancholy.
This half list of greatness, a tally we both wish to see.
