Paces off, And Turns to Reveal Its Fatirical Epigram

toward its gabionage
of laryngeal make pattern
the trothed bedrabbling
paints of Bedouinism
would foster the returning
sofia

wisdom is sofa, or if one
imagines a special couch,
the brain hands love seat
sends the gorisound
to Big Mama Maybelle

whose eyes are blind to the
baroque golden starfish building
creeping by, on one hundred
thousand naked girl feet

nude carriages pop out
incessantly like flexible
waves of pearls

pearl tongue carriages
whose symmetric putti hornameants
lannything phannything

the baroque golden starfish building
made of a filo of gold leaf
and inflated by the constancy
of puttisong

a hundred million windows
open and close revealing
such mousse coiffures of
daubloons swooning to daublutes

the whole thing
like a balloon of golden lace
kept alive by trumpets

by balloon-hunchback knights
with trumpet sidepipes
and dorsal laser leisures
rapt in gestural seizures

Big Mama Maybelle
lannything phannything
you cellular description
not available

anywhere

lanny ware

werefunnel
O lanarius polyzoa
I slip to ironing in my sofa foona
and call you

ployzoa
more zilla
than god
more odd
than dodgy

would that you had
mended the rope
with the braids of Bryony

while all of ye-I
were wished willfooned
in the white root
of Helmont mart
groping to ward
the three-hand
fart

of its traffic
syzygy's arfod led
to
kindiger the socred
mysseds
for
blue is towering
in its auster astrangements
its jonglier starrangements
conjoing all things
in the

no thing self

what wine would touch
as sweetly
as that epigram which told

that the soldiers of Xerxes
did lark and play
in Pasquil's mouth