somnambulating waves caress the face of the moon
catastrophic appendages flounder in the distance
Tetris calculations obscure the vision of curators and ideologues
under the bridge, skirts and hairnets hide true natures to the detriment of the whole
basement ontologist
closed doors that creak
open legs that don't think
vanishing windows
an unearthed passion
producing varying effects
nipples that right off taxes
drunken candles and eaten airships
by the terror stricken vandals and their captors
and if then eyes could neither close nor cry
the end result would be pi times why and divided by the time you sang a Donny Hathaway song to a girl on a rainy summer night in Brooklyn
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