You Shoot?
Hominy dimes
avenue leeward
cup holder mint
aided dare union
bee four heaven
the moist trapped gown
indie whirled
hazard a chant
you shoot?
Ramjet Séance Dreams
An entitled lime slips effortlessly
from effrontery’s cool encircled back brace,
flirting without flesh neuroses,
seamlessly negating slippery
sophisticated nanoseconds,
stiffed for sushi embolisms
by bunk bed banyan chompers.
Somber ambulance mechanics lean upon
irradiated freaks for copper longings,
toning their emphatic plug board leggings
with shamefaced derringer express settees,
bluffing onset canker wisdom into smocked celerity.
Pawning Chopin off and on against twisted stereo grit,
a warped didactic mint beautician crumbles
seahorse dandelions into chrome cessation stares,
plunking hefty slivers down for townies on a featherbed
in dusted water slide soup.
Scintillating sovereigns sojourn
on windswept migrant thirst campaigns,
championing champagne shims and feral island loons
for chipmunk charcoal oyster featurettes,
drenched in au pair shavings.
Languorous internal traceries of salivating viral seams
beset imperfect fiction with raspberry walruses
under buttressed fry cook errors,
flung to mirthless centipedes.
Stopgap hammer floes lack equestrian oomph,
shoving salted engine pests into coveted skill set flues,
clogging high-heeled inlets
with tasseled bishopric collation pith.
Legumes pronounce stout jungle hosiery
for tightwad indigents, muscling over two pence
in empty lozenge hostel poker ramjet séance dreams.
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