Princess of Pipi V3

working on still raw.

Melting into affinities

did not stop a spread of relish

where angels slip

up to the top

and rinses pyromancer

with pith and panty

cavorts with cavalry

stick and stock

where beanblossom aerodromes

and resistance leaps into the red

at crazy beauty in tissues of lies

hungry for my head.

Quiet. Quiet.

Arch Medea

the all and none

has gone to bed.

But the plant still moves

to every touch

it knows the hammer

buried in gold

and rim to rod

that fiery flush.

Squid squad screw

alar alew.

Alices chores

are torus tore

from cutters bowl and weevil

holy confusions medieval.

Falling through force

of pressure wound

around and around

blinkered bounds

what rocks to fill

with hunters hounds

beating the bush

beating the bush.

Where birddog found

sound in crown

in league with rhymes


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