A Gigolo's Ghee Gilded William

Abstract

What I was lacking you brought from beneath a ghat I was building a gimbal and it cracked I was unbraiding a giaour's meditated tuft while you sought surplus purple for a gamay garment Your geyser always shared in prescription store aisles while malevolent Mimes aimed hoses into the ocean with things burning right beside But your eyes and even rinds were sucked yesterday through gills above wavetips and over Mojave-made azure gharries We scaled gagging spires and gutted ourselves Labioratory gone through a gloryhole on Fell That tan transmitter taken from Rose where waning white accordion waves past collapsing places Green grams fanned through air and the irrigation corps dessicates in stations A vaulted sky vulnerable with nimbus symptoms Ambulance tremulates lengthening silences In an opaline shell navigating space you fell at Io and we owe isolate lighthunting faces who overdrew an inventory for an old dosage boat We never broke pelicans or shot at odious offshore ships Cinnamon-colored clinamen obscures that ocean and I oar out We never spat our objections in a speck flask of obsidian We rung orange canalwater from two rags All the ones I dream of are children Now comes Asian flute music and a despicable feeling Seck fractured voices from vaporous places No longer even questions but the sound of questioning I dream of azalea-colored eyes on a warm orb that kisses and a family that builds vessels because it wants to tide water to places of somestic dunes that swallow trauma Your tongues were wild hoes of astral agriculture We tinged until two we began In your midst I had three friends Double Trochee, Dilator, and Flora-Flare The diceholes filled with dew and you swam Filled with lobal foam and you beamed A flea was riding a porpoise and they were in love! Verdant Shunt would take us by the face To the orchid store on the 33 in deranging rays The fluttering inverted comb the softly bouncing snout of a dead September seahorse in a tank with a darting disc and oval pieces Blood does not accrue but moves I pretend there is something in the sand the water wants that the center of the sea is silent that at its ends one hears backwash ramming incoming walls and to the southwest a torquoise blasting ship on glassy resins Cunning things thrive in cummy dungeons No longer our songs but the ache of playing The spider played its needles the cunning thing came and was inverted its pill drained Together we annihilated the spider then fed it to a sparrow We pounded the sparrow to powder We rolled a Hell Bank dollar and brought the sparrow inside We rhymed pearls in advance of the sadness of the Chinese boy who chased a rolling melon - Why is my melon running away from me? …