down in the earth bowl the maggot storm the particle stream the chlorophyll compote starlight

across the gauss fields raunchy with dew

a woman drives
her monday tableau
dim targets
on the country road
beside her her
mustard
three quarks in his hand full house proton perfect
hums
wiper blades snug
torchlight congealed on his brow

I tried not to but after eleven words it came out. Time. I worshipped the length of it how it went back all the way back to what had to come next.

bards and bastards call

code brown : code brown

hinted at early in the intense romance, only after decades of struggle, suffering and determination : the burning reality of the numinous

more thing theory

every thing being

other slippery wavy things

 

with rosettes

spreading protections

for projections

 

nothing comes next

     except echoing

ululations     
which is the

the waste of worry in the the the

oceans