Monday, December 22, 2014

Will Sampson with his Boot in Motion

Will Sampson with his Boot in Motion

Debride by gentle bearing are being clear and felt
   for a taffeta ball. Threw about by nightshirt blent

within shadow. Will gash about in this the visible
   plumage. Made carrion claws clutch about a nick

line did harbor such piercing pleasures. I muffled
   about on my mouth. Had pressed to a pillow been

made healed and free. And there are darker fields
   out through the glass that barred between us too.

And another bird floating over. Held on delicious
   thoughts between the eyebrows. That go up only

to an ephemeral juicy fruit flavor packet. To faith
   lines I humbled on. There are a thousand rooms

in this psych labyrinth where a palm were being
   held by out raging into plastered hat. Fancy angel.

Spilt stone worn. If I were to be inspired in these
   uneasy ascensions. If I were only to climb through

more window. One thing calmed to no tongue did.
   Brought back to life by his gum. And the heaviest

work boot struck my butt. Then I got my sack back.