Monday, July 6, 2015

Dried Cranberry on Twine

Iced the nightlong buttercup
                        plumage. Shall turret the tin

ooze. In this rubble of bear
                        leather strung as rather had

spent heirlooms. On those
                        ledges pour berry by pawed

bumpers in the flatten fabric
                        the fluting hung to. There is

our generations birthing out
                        from a carved bone of pearl.

Cerebrum mold strange let.
                        Scraped the bare head yield.

There are claws of common
                        lid put to decorative necks.

There are torn dimensions
                        through which bear tenders

spirit swaddled. We within
                        are dried cranberry pause is

that rouge and blent radiant
                        with a transparent air piece.

That held taut this charmed
                        twirl by the bear is blue eyed.

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