.                                                                                  o
                                                                                  f
                                                                                 hu
                                                                                man
                                                                               thin
                                                                              gs: ma
                                                                             ny doin
                                                                            g, thing
                                                                           s human
                                                                          are more n
                                                                         eatly couth i
                                                                        n Into-Dust co
                                                                       ats of polite var
                                                                      nish and their ha
                                                                     ats hang at precise
                                                                    their teeth ivory and
                                                                   the smell of their colo
                                                                  gne catches back at the
                                                                 throat wearing finest silk
                                                                s (but time, time looks bru
                                                               tally through their and prim
                                                              shoes and trousers. knees sag
                                                             eyes hang instantly
                                                                                                 languor w
                                                           ears them like cheap perfume and
                                                          laughter unsuddenly from nowhere
                                                         crisps the cheeks of everywaiting sou
                                                        l creeks with soon to be dirt bones and
                                                       amongst them sprouts something gener
                                                      ous. Less close to nearly dead, and has (l
                                                     ike a frond has) demure sturdy waifish. its
                                                    timber is clothed in blonde lips and eyes lik
                                                   e waking almost never(no like daffodils; yes l
                                                  ike more them) only daffodils, they are not so b
                                                 right, nor as agile, i think but who knows i was o
                                                nly a boy who, from across the street noticed, a girl
                                               pressed between death,
                                                                                                     laughing like a *****

the more less you (than unsuddenly writhing
with magic)i write for is really not and too
bad 'cause(taking with neat blackest fingers: me)
if you were i would swear a poem of fast
intricate roses(who amongst coyly hidden
scythes take)that swell with scents as
nearly radiant and folded as thy own scent
of swelling(so please waiting too long don't to
finding) enchanted nothing: rolls and rolls

of stink

elle n'est pas one hell
of an elle in does
brightly chafe with
dower stocking removal
hastily into thigh as thigh
does improbably hairless
Glide into petite grande
pink pretty pinched heaping
of dryless ****** helping
of **** help needing

A quick drizzle of angles that
unsuddenly with immortal pairing
bare the rude stem of Spring–

which cannot unbarley but to shreak
the tiniest whisper of "please into my
house enter the deepest blooming
of red red red steam   "

being i just could only
that at
the naked perfume
of her
seeping incessantly laughter
but to boom as wide and cloyingly
drunk with open health

as God had said
making the world
by one word: she

said not one word
(making my world)
but two,

               "**** me"

Unsuddenly
quite sadly
and plain
matter of factly
she passed away.

Now
Mother would say
don't weep for me
just keep for me
a small place in your heart

but a small place
hardly starts to begin to put in                                                  
the wealth of her wisdom,
it would have to be
a mansion

Which I suppose my Mother's
heart was.

Does my life lie within the sighs of limelit crying?
Stained forever, its dim, outshined, most importantly, not shining.
Loose
Dying by the poorest of timing,
it seems strange of me.
Not to mention that chirping
Usurping
Word murdering phrases curdling
and unsuddenly curling nails back, furling the unfurled.
It's not working.