stubbed bunk stork crossing

at a stump to eyeglass waver
in which the scenery has no landlord
and through which the little tomb cults meander
patching the ruined aritifical walls w/
type 5a hairy oculus machine patch
oud delta camera which surrounds nothing
and keep nothings both in nor out
su dong po and louis paul boon
a d'leiicate kyparissian vessel
sprounting ornate and flowery bodies
which slowly groan and gesticulate
some smile and are the best sermon
as regards this garden in which the muse
or 'al muso' escaped the world to remain
inside it (as an eternal photon leaning
towards some decadence)

one primitive idea
that we could veil or display
is that the stones have the appearance
of an illustration of a wide expanse of sea
and that the little sprigs of sakutiki
are vast and towering geysers
hinchiing skaz to an oval twisted tree
through which a fox appears
wearing a tiny ceramic bell
a stylized and severed head of a spartan
no reynard has shown deciselly
that its is a formal tea garden
something's tail that prints invisibly
upon the echoing banda stones

salamanders race
between the ritually placed
teapots wearing overcoats
which undermine their styles
to much advantage
for father vapeur
whose fair ondine
gives al corso socialism
on the run
as the creeping vines turn
by dream in hunters
round the worthless walls
it's a kabuki of borrowed
anecdotes loosely performing
the sosashizu

ondine relays
fields of yamabuki
to the surface
of the secret pond
and is so wrapped up in poems
that no one can find her
as she stands stiff as a phrase
among the herms
ghastly with gorgeous kerria
flowers (their math)

who knows what really grows there
in the primitive blue ball
we find a few gnaw-marks
by neolithic dogs and some varied
silver tokens near geraki
huge pithos of mudbricks
with overgrown gardens inside
fusing fuzzy fuzei
and all of it moves
as 610 carpenters
inside a single room
with a runnel
rowing through it