pelicans!
here. with temporary teeth
advance like dodos pogoing
wearing piano gourds, and each
surely tardy..
disbursing!
chicken noises. their poor
sustenance is the voice poised;
these dupes think only of private care,
a baldness halts their braying
with the saying: this maze of plants
is but common jonquils: Poor Kings
our thought-logs all say yes!
No arc may be a souvenir,
a lure, or a mark, but only
a lazy tooth disbursing
a poorer roux eaten
while entering verse,
the poorest roux against every fashion,
the fairy's arc is no response...
Now view the roux of God's rebellion,
its best threeness is sad,
a rooster in the gallows
is sad, but the sadness is mineral,
poor Kings quit
the singing logs.
A purse is found in Benares
by a cluck of interconnected writers.
Now. the strange guitar
is pulled from the mountain in joy,
and its vote is prone.
It views our feral brother.
Punch it in the jowls!
then quit it before the pigeons share
their poor rifle
above the plaque which reads:
THESE ANGELS STINK OF CIRCLES
THESE POOR KINGS QUIT THE SINGING LOGS
I will not pay you Hermes.
When you groom the drug, you devour
the fairy, take no junk from sayings:
Every serious thing is much too long.
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Irrony Observes The Earthing.