She had freckles on her forehead.

it is possible to dance

it is possible to dance

-

the grig of rays

the grig of days

-

in the high plateau of swamps

the oculus

and all the whereas

wood-cloth

its paper

and sliding over soft limp rooms

its long thin telephone

like a walking cane

you clock

for the tomb

of Alexander's father

reduced to a hearth

this golden robot

will only butt-box

with the inflatable head

of Wile E. Coyote

amid the general

lupercaloricities;

agreed?

I agree to dance.

but the fame

of my burden

is like a bust

made of fruit

which grows

like a masthead snake

dangling a sternum mohawk

strung with boots

a cup of grog-fish

in the ulm

of info-pelagic

my breet no can

my breet no shu

my breet can no shu

my breet will bear

i find no distinctions

say my breet's old head

in the mirror

of its old torn off head

of fur

forever suits me

it is possible to dance

now the whole tableau

would seem to be this

interrogation draped in chocolat

and all the big bottomed jury

their big bottoms

are made one

no one know knows

there are pearls 

trapped in the rectums

of these paintings

a laundress showed me

fauns as thin as toothpicks

stretch to meet

the ground

its quare light amok

its adze afire

in the mishaping azure

the cool blue brain of omens

must touch the water's cursor

it is not possible to dance 

singing in the rain

I cast thee out!

TRIAMOND!

beguiler!

thorad

of half-helmets

mucked with musicked

leaf chafings!

it is possible to reign

but the hyphen shoe remains

to curse

the running water

of the cool blue brain

of omends

if I enter language's blue rectum

as a pearl

surely 

dance will reign

for an oven of birds

Have you forgotten how to dance?

How to reign?

my scapulas

are palm fronds.

sin

is 

old

never fitting quite

sure

but the equation

for fitness

must be presented

in the shape of a ball

well,

do we bind it up again?

the pearl.

it's days are chaste,

and its knights

discomfitted.

with the painful integration

of its hosure.

Alexander eyes

are a wolf's teat

sun-dial

venus

cloned

in the heavens

absolute somethingness