for Joshua Martin
The crystallographer zeroed in on a treatise of snores
It was stuffy as a hummingbird’s livingroom
Oilcloth blowouts in chanticleer misery
An ancient way of telling flowers from bells
Wilted cargo, jaded vanity
Who put the lop in lopsided?
I’ve dug myself out of worse graves
The other way lies psoriasis
Loosen up now, down a pituitary bargain
The read road is often gone
Find a signal you could aim at vanishing
Threads won’t be threads in the harbor anymore
A case of hard, serpentine housing
Down whatever lawn you care to snore
Where spears an igloo of lancet doubling
Out the mirror, killing time
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