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.