scratch
it right up there --
so lost
in the aggregate --
whimsy
is back, right?
what’s
in your wallet? --
fungus
underneath the floor --
pitched
a perfect game
weep for
poor bodies --
that
wood was expertly carved --
delicate
but firm
precipice
of wrath --
more
coverage than ever --
clockwork
makes its move
village
bells never on time --
bile
seeps its way down
serrated
paper --
long
light reaches her brown hair --
each
error, noted
motion
sickness map --
prudish
silver, walls, faces --
we’re a
fake kingdom
polynomials --
in these
days, we pull knowledge --
five
crows make a line
avuncular
speech --
in a
cavern; in a mine --
they’d
hog all grammars
vocal chords,
tongues, lips --
lantern
in a long leaf pine --
that’s
not the right switch
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