the sound of the hoover:
(burrs catches on skin
furs throat lining
sounds like
the line under
the dead straight way)
turn around sound
catches its breath
bones and tiptones
the lining of my throat
the dust still vocal
above
her hoover movement
she is hovering
the altar
sun on green carpet
2
he was holding the kettle
above the birdbath
melting the ice
gold tipped wings
and straight back
against the low tree
holding their
(apple)
onyx
such an one and
such an one
beware the bullfinch
flat caps go flatter
3
pull
strike
pull
light lines across
the spiral steps
no
admittance
no trespass
step
across