he digesteth hard ears within
the brief pelligro kata tu mess
for scantly scented bellephanerofonts
would date your jellied palm, reading:
ocat ikat toast points in the orm naan
oboe din, and krell blunts
for drunken space chefs
auto-igniting
in fast covertible fables:
a lovely young Victorian girl
in purple top hat riding an ostrich
whose neck snakes infinitely up,
a tether or umbilicus
to that hydra in the sky now
enter Hercules Homunculus..
some say the house is cold
but it's just the sweet tisane
over-awing the collective
or insane maw
how careless their castle
rooted in the precipice
like a molar
with one long root
visible in the cliff
and a balcony
where viewing a schiff
out to see
string thin swans
for cross-hatching
catch the light
with lens-like amphorae
barking floral crucibles
which after
the amputation
are called
floral dirigibles
or psytation's
Doc Cuerdo...
