Chicken Butt

 You know what? Scurrilous donkey of winter ammonite hunters the sheet fed hand-hammered bronze temple punctured surface of the Dhammazedi bell /concur with cotton/ as a name _____to know precisely to the world's largest poured i, after Gasparo Balbi, the friendly ghost, arrivée, du crimson fons of fauns, as the kris knife clinkers this foamed green badger which unites the first ottoman tulip to the last recorded dacelo, the laughing kookaburra is antigram to alcedo the albedoan word for a kingflasher, like William Elford Leach, a member of a paraphyletic line of human jonquills squibbling away in the periplus of this grave and natural hide-thee-away, take stray, and bee to the boob-keyed donkey the heiney hey of cladistics' grandfather shadow in transplanted Alamut Castle, biz aily he hemonghees, Hulagu du shucka Mongo Mongo Robinson, shucka Lord Monboddo's tuba wore a turban of pterosaurian scuba skin / to why / too dry / to whell its inkswain swim/ belly-a-fin/ of the fin of the Fin de siècle funny money sin / these pan-ideas____burp, oh hodad feller and lady chisel-satchel, for what we now think of geopolitics had its origins in fin de siècle Europe (and Burma) in response to technological change, and to donkey the strigil that scrapes the painting from the canvas/ where the strigil looks on as a pipe, a pipe that is not a pipe, but a strigil and which says, or reads: ceci n'est pas une strigile, the struggle is real, but reality is something like a treachery of images. Perseus was not Persian, but was from Iran, or rather he ran awhile across the Shu'ubiyyan doobie, all are righteously included/ within the madhouse of molecular ethernity, and all are green donkey honeycombs beaming bridgelike beams of azure amber. Castle-biz. Bacteria-whiz, this likewise has no handy mane, but the bald pate of reason knows no shame, you shood neaver beez at a shamedi for ther there you up doont doont tru to da reazon, fort, flort floraborth, here in the Kotosh of Peru, you raised a fine shedu, or a Lamassu of more serious times ahead / here, periwingle of starry nontopia would stare longingly into the games gallery, her hands like painted triremes glittering with jeweled and applique' eyes, or the golden Appliqué of dearly dawned Parthenoplyus, gather here on the metaphysical and Atalantean plane, and all try to fill, the infinite pockets, of first class: Glyptagnosticus reticulatus...