Lastly i unleash the very gem
ending the miners blisters from their
toil, they can go home to watch TV
because it's what twits do best
Lest the miners are indeed dense
Oil must be pumped, the pumpers dumped,
old rancid pinnacles Must be replaced
detaining children's follies
behind urban playpens, costs elevate
only because tiny levers make whoopee
involuntarily grinding the slack sadness,
lastly, once else all is seated with club
in tone in tune, the city hand lost
some of the best antique marbles
very very slowly i will chew upon
art until the succulent flesh flourishes
turning levels on leaves, core heaves
symbols on edges to startle the book
of 24 hours each page disappears
folding within moment diapers
freckled speckled measurements disperse
undressing the wrappers from silken
nocturnal daylight
written with Sierra Collom
1996, Portland Oregon
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