Saturday, April 1, 2017

Magnetic/Heath Brougher

A seed is put into Earth.
A Zoologist sprouts in the garden.
The pangs of swine reverberate eternally.
Shedding leaves and bones for the Cemetery Crowd.
The digging for the xylophone went on for days
just to find that tone of finality to contradict the aforementioned eternity.
Each beer drank itself from empty without pitchfork or quarrel
to scrape the yeast from its tin can as to prevent Thrush.
The whole shelf of the sacrilegious has been bent crooked.
The nuclear blast throws atomic thorns into the omnipresent gales
that rip and unleaf the trees, etc.

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