from Iteration Nets

6


The light goes out-it exudes
plasma stabilized in vast quarries of marigold, turnip, flock and gull.
Miasma cradled, I dim, cast worries, shove air and hold. Urns tip. Truth be told
delight's grown stout-wit deludes
the plight, owns doubt.-Hit, obtrude,
blast a stabled cry when last wearied love marries fold. Tune up, mock the lull
as my fatal eyes tin, crash wary. Of manifold tunes, quipped talk bends full,
we fight, groan loud-mist intrudes-
a way of thinking amidst our hemispheric faults.
The day went and I gleamed open. Reservoir
eyes. Dreams, lips, and the night goes
away, love shrinking and pissed, hours hemmed. And fears default
the play, rent. And, eye-reamed, a pen preserves our
tried glean. Missed. And then I throw

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