The Golden Lottery

for Pho Hurray

1.
O fountains of Chrysoprase feat!
it is oughtdom and the fleece,
have you invaded Privaritrol, or visited Hamburger Mary's?

2.
Where the leaps were catabolizing down
one fleece took out her rosinary
and began to eat stones upon a false inlet

3.
"O Holy Mother Birch, you are the groan
of the vestals upon the black stoa
where the babies are flapping in flush cradles."

4.
Then there was a dark mound of isomers
that seized and were amazed
by the theory circus which displayed a svelte ass,

5.
for it was very vertiginous
as pop sonar gets off and goes on,
a ping which lived like a lion upon pointstream's tilt

6.
and to the tilt and lilt of Chrysoprase feet
O the ghostly brain ears!
they were ravishingly happy like harpy china valves,

7.
which they had run-on with a sextant
who was a glee of virideography
you may well have touched yourself with them online,

8.
you porous Hideo, the "very piss stares"
when they are all getting hot
within their fleece pods scrunching up into the anus cameras

9.
of a monster magazine, nein times fie.
Did you skin many animalcules?
Yes, arterial father bromide, and I am arrested in hay.

10.
the oxlips are absolutely fowling
like young apples of girlish mares.
Are you summoning innumerable horses of cum?

11.
You must come raise the brazen serpent with me,
my Carlito. I know you fall down
inside the ice-cream bones of drowned Urselfs

12.
and when the lights go out, Oompaloompas!
and arcings of breast candor.
It is impossible to be a nest of lines in history

13.
feeling on my hodads you stole
while on horse, its mane of blue eels like toast
over which toad's hands are cooing like lemons in a bush.

14.
Chrysoprase feat! Do you queer me?
I have asked your "boy"
your copses whose nose ivory is javelina rambunction

15.
for the lining 'to take'
aren't we violin amoeba syringes?
you and I? The women's dictionary is the same size.

16.
Nudity is a generous trapeze,
that is, beer.
Yes. We are in San Francisco 2010 drinking beer!

17.
Our sneakers are expensive,
and yet comic, the way
magnets dance and swarm among the horses of the port,

18,
and of course it's hooded
like the amusement of clits
which are raining down furry hearts into heart-heaped pits

like spit.