From Whence Its Contour Led

It is no use
they dread the Hun

of no use
you tile
utility

The Hun is dread honey
image more perfect
than morose

Salome' could not find
a sample more sweet

The Hun would laugh
if it had a mouth
but

corpse-like
a honey bladder
ascends up an infinite tree
whose utility
futility
is moreover

aisled wildly
toward arkipeligro

through islands
whose soft green beards
butterfly the bird guitar

bird bard
bride

written
nether

neter
for addled leisure

sead

the high black walls
the princess poots

the dread hun
marks out its leisure

tram of geese
passing before the dim memories
now fading on the ruse

Sensoria, your sparkling paddles
whose surfaces boil in questions conjoining

gu ring
rug rugae
augury angry
wry nana
ana eery alla

yellow phantom
the cloak hung lazily
over the secret door
of the dwarfing pebble