Getting there —
Lob and we
are meant to fall.
Rhymes the gall.
Chimes the way
runes the dunes
weighs head on bowl
a whistleblowers
metastable --
Called to stand
in black and pink
home's drawers
and drawers
are filed with it --
-- farceurs allures
-- loves of loaves
-- Vincent's napsters
in fields of crow.
Boning honing sky
for mariners readings
bird guides feeding
posts along the spillway.
Enters, at crosshairs
pure is
as pure as --
a collapsable chair.
Gloms a hat
that is a cat
that is a bat
and all that.
In library
with hair clip
scales sails --
for a collection plate
because sky and noon
shot cross a bow
and in the boon --
beholds
unfolds
the midair mudroom
flying lobster
sitting bull
whose physics is
a gap with pull.