that too, did you.
Comma blossom conversation
drop, jump in the moon,
skimming the nightjar of what is now mist.
We danced on train in. Gaunt
fruit glaze mud of sluice mill and scissor.
Spooned the glad man's gabardine plant nuggets
to light trail pack and bent. Find him late
in the iridescent algae at the farthest edge
from the track. We paste grim on the rack.
Like your kernel nub on the amble contour
of a nightshirt, a grasping bramble
of slander hand. Heart buried spindle. Poke
a bonnet switch cloth snagged in briar
duct under fungus lump burl and dally.
Dissolve a gilded lump as dusk slump.
Look. Poach. Acorn oak. Splendid
crutch of naked and murk.