Formant

1 May 2018

Smell of egregious hours the petulant fridge.

Water lilies panting the gradient: app bursts under thumb.

Unfurling on wine more blue than onerous.

Moggie has something to say: it takes effort to listen

and it’s less satisfying than you’d think.

Charred timbre on the account of beauty and of the trees,
tries heavy repose, black magic. We, as in he,

and his eroding limbs, are stained with a preferred Saint:

press the genus, formant. For activity means

the tibia can narrow. A place to dance like a fresco

waning egg white: the morning bites.

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