what is the skeins of/strains of lie
grafted on the table

what is the tiniest something in your eye
all night and into the next day

a searing vestibule
and you are listening
hold it right there taxonomy

there are jumper cables for the erudite
and less engaged of space

a perpetual sniffling
sitting next to the Sikh at the bus-stop

shibuki avenger
crumple my walls
hold a carnival in my wake

one mans jaw drop is anothers
flagrant ember clasp

pry ring finger pray pyre of glass peas
fell from his pocket

and covered the highway stretched
as far as the open mind

rides again a parsnip
a junket river of celery glass

river ribbons

enscribe it song, be bones
like grit true.