#9

BONGOS:


Bursts

taut and stunk between the fiendish grassy know and the liquid find. yes, that was the about time that clustered up along the circling I scraped from loin but not from reason.

something seething in the sniffle. wrathful writhing in the wrists. laughter after a trip or people and other skyward things going horizontal in the bank of you.

here was the laugh about what we found in your fingernail. and the laugh about the time you said cllosstumes but meant costumes which would have made your brilliant point and everything relevant but 'twas slaughtered by the goons of too much too soon. mostly just the laughs about the time you slipped on public water but instead of pretending to dance or barrel roll back into stance you just boiled in the minutes until they morphed.

laudable laughable laughatable ponderous wander. humor in the squander body rotting all the fonder.


BRASS: