hitchcocked glass baubles

waves of melon

in perfume of

fresh purchase

warping unseamed

left the city

to understand

how it all gets

eaten that is

consumed

swapsies  to be

an all over

attitude

inconspicuous flowers

the socket game

arachnophobia spreads

on turf suck and

funny to put on

rustic kit

blowing

old techno

shadows of fig

crossing back windscreen

if Don’s Party

at the CFA

is back in style

I’ll cut my ties

she says to

an unseen crowd

conglomerate scriptures

dragging the family

into rushlight

as if we aren’t

grasses anyway

can you breathe

between massive freedoms

or speak

without irony

barefoot on

sweet flag

laid down

in hazelnut half-dark

dressed in

this old thing

pastures of myrtle

coagulate

turfy clogs

that shod you

we can eat

some sedges

with the right

procedure we

walk by food

often

a pipe, a high,

a swiftly made roof

from: ‘of an eye’

darkened pupil

bulrush brown

punctum or

high protein plug

sticks break

and splinter

I won’t drive

the propaganda truck

whose wheel  is

matted in a slow-

reveal terrain of

intricate pondings

strapping that

refuses to answer

the question