Infernal Terrarium Deux

1. 

Of many doomed projects the answer is, when removing a leaf, 

Always remove its stem as well. One of the great perks of this job

Is sometimes entering a terrarium, and climbing up the moss rick,

The overdetermined landscape where watering will not be necessary 

For months. It is good for the species inside, carrying on with odd jobs

Until joking among the survivors is more subdued, with a slight fogging

Among the sign-painter's casuarinas, snail's antlers until the necessary 

Instant we realize our devil of horticulture. With this pickup tool now raised

In blessing or curse, one end buried vertically with one end just barely fogging

The filmed sun like false cypress. Afterward, we seem to have Wholeheartedly absorbed the taboo, or else the bottle is in charge. After blameless years raising

Teardrops to drain in sand just as any dance interpreted by another choreographer,

Earth took of earth. Your purple lord is among the last to bloom, a quarantined lady's slipper
Has a strong cutout shape with a curled leaf

Though it begins blushing desperately in a dance hall propagating choreographers (who go there to find

A reeking aril, stagnant fount) watering your thirst there is, in the end, necessary


2. 


Descending with this new freedom, the unbleached bedding. Unbroken concrete by a much leafed-through
Volume in a room with windows along only one wall. A pet's honest look. Yours sits quietly at your heels
Lips sheening bright confitures, or perhaps just moistening its nose. What I did not want, those necessary
Issues for you to make your own. During the hottest time of day, he reads nothing. Muddling a cocktail


Of dry climates, with a drop taken in the evening when the rug won't lie down. Two winged heels
At the moment of catching violence grew moss. So you are not likely to notice the change,
Chalk flowers stampeding across the board. And though it was not a good idea to stir the cocktail,
He could not help himself, not wishing to talk. Nights are much cooler than days, with the gleam


Of the thing she wanted with the utilities paid. In dreams it is a refreshing change
To meet a woman mechanic. She conducted herself demagnetizing my scissors. Every tree
Spreading lichen, wherever you place them, becomes stiff as a home. A terrible thought gleamed
In the ménage of photosynthesis. We were astride the last machine, so the roadside wildflowers 


Lose none of their glamor. And yet always reaching for the brightest spot in the room, it bids you to change
The future's rumpled note. With notable defections, parrot tulips continue to lengthen once they're snipped, leafed-through,
Before they are thrown out in the yard. Astride the last machine obliterating wildflowers 
Our stems are all in a line. Moistening with a glass in hand, now make necessary arching toward the light.