Lance the soil. The lot sings tar songs. slow night murmurs
Gwen, vivacious warbles with it smoothing now slowing
sweet orbits arranged in strides the length of cannon echoes
repeated in tongues; a round.
Table that thought, mixed into new nones. Final fright and lost
How cannily he sings, his tongue locked in step with the evening
shivering outward her tune tasks the air where once solemn
ministers rounded. Carmine and Leather. Softly now.
Dearest neck, why do you fade so pale

last dream of gordian

Draftlines slink, urban sounds raftering from undone dream through lashes
still twined with sleep / I am waiting with storied slenderlings laxing broadly
folded in curved articles of string

Foundry smoke drifts under, Lasts for more, colder, whisped smoothly in
flimsy rhizomes. warbled, a soot robin. marked overland limping /She
orders from the side menu when they look over quiet strands

Grasp thin spinarettes between warped

For some slipped drinks

Snapdragon.

She called to me across the in

On the backwash I buzzed, rifled

Cordelion dreams. A dandelion stretched
in rifled roughland

Where in dreaming do stretched roughlands
snap

She called to me under