Now, For the Usual Frank Verbs

Leveraging the Leminiscate: Sapphic XI or XIII

                     To be continued, the cudgels down...

Flaming Mint (Lamiaceae)

With stems square in cross section with leaves that emerge oppositely, each pair at right angles to the previous one. Coleus are members of the Mint family.

Food about you - Concours Festival d'Annecy 2010

Boustrophedon

With increasing pressure on the elegy, the star makes for home splashing water
On the eves. Storming around, making news, if ever sharing the same bed. 
As when someone becomes empress, and is carried away to the old crime,
Much less the neatly typewritten names inscribed inside her left temple; a lit


Cigarette from a new gold case. Since that is exactly what it was, the same bed
Receiving the chaste touches. Considerably higher than politics, and doing her
Best not to sound eager, she fills the room with an odd refracted blue light, lit
Like from within, like the more exclusive bordellos. They will never travel together


Again by calling herself a publisher. The star has a formidable season prepared doing
The marble block of her silence, at the left side of the Madonna's head. Despite
Not knowing enough how they work, she'll buy one of them, with leaking ewers altogether
Done up in plate. Just imagine the one being wooed, and be put off by the cost.


The glittering thing will drop with the rain-washed label. Even if it cost her his 
Avuncular mask were she to become much larger, his muddy shoes make for home 
Overriding what to do about the newspaper or new recipient of the crush. What with costs
Of his keeping, without the fatal pregnancies, thrown bits, he carries away to the old crime.


  

Day Star Divination

                 [Until Then]

Truth-Telling with Eleven-Year-Old Girls

But As We See [The Hierophant]

What she wanted, and it was with the thought of killing them at a time when

People's thoughts had not turned towards conservation—I fired my piece.

She had a dark face, and perhaps hidden claws, and I already see you

Experienced your mother. Running over the Empress's back I would have shot

One hundred of her reverend sirs propped up in bed. Gazing at them or piecing

Them together as I never before cast my eyes—with as little regret as I ever have.

And the instant the ox-eyed Empress flinches in the paralysis, her hand shooting

Up, all is cramped by the need to be in everything with the rule on her lips. 

One fore and one hind foot pinned to her off-kilter music, I regret as I ever have,

Being unable to present it in its own rich and animated language. The sea-breezes

Distressing these peeling fence-rails. Perhaps there'll still be a stampede, and her lips

To testify, to the book we raise in the morning until we retire to rest, not gratified. 

No sooner has the returning sun again bleached the pages, then she has tacked the breeze

For another tedious and unrewarding affair. All this because you know who has had

The whole of the first volume cut out. Forced to truly live by what we believe or worst, be gratified 

To wage war against my feelings, I welcomed all. Some wired models of the academy

In another editorial fantasy made me of themselves. Hunched as one who has had

The fragile texture of her portfolio opened by skeptical, indifferent eyes. As I've already seen

Our little campaign played in a sequence of blue. With the remaining colors carry on playing

Without it—Very much so, the unanswered letters, she wanted the thought of killing them each time.

Some Cures for the Living...

Infernal Terrarium, the Monitoring Equipment Was Hidden in the Furniture

                                                              Cloches by Andy Paiko

4.

She thinks she is hurt, assuming rebirth would happen. From the outside, leaves
Tie up the carbon, and the pre-blast remnants heap the crater sides as if everything
Were an excuse for feeding. One plant, say, Herb Paris, pushing through seems a girl
Again. Today has the appearance of a bust, with the bell's rimless approach no


Longer a miracle. Another sunny day last summer has only one full-time interpreter. Everything,
All your friends, are peers in oiled glazing. They have recently found their way to new shores
And outlaws have been transformed by their houses and associated studios.  But with no
Movement of the sea to smooth out the brain, as our country has been overwhelmed


By every possible difficulty, one looks to one's soul to be struck by coincidence. New shores
They are to us, the voyagers starting out. Facing a cartooned wall surrounded by grass or
A few trees, if only there were an image of you I could worship. A display of teeth overwhelmed
By our courteous ways. With everything I have done, even yet, the short jagged waves of sleep



Convey me where I hoped to reach, to the cloche violets only absences create. The grass
Dies off, and from there, we must walk. Of many doomed projects, answers harvest the tenderest
Of leaves so that it is possible, from the confines where she is crouching, fast asleep. All ardency's
Spent. Droughts of bitter tea are taken. As you fall asleep, my chair rears from climbing the  moss rick.