Dashing with Donovan-
Gunna have forever to fly.Horns and a woman of the angels prelude.
Electrical banana.
Like a neon sign after glow. Dust. Moths. Mites layered thickly
on tubes-
Florescence and fabrications of friendliness.
Glance up. He digs for gold and stretches as he owns the land. Closely he smells of a young brother, out for summer fun-
Metal and mesh. Skin.
Trebor.
Thick or thin-
Translucence.
Alert. Rotten eggs aboard.
Opaque.
It's a day that seems unlike so.
Darkly jig-sawed
like a stumble home-a stumble upon-
recollection-
A childhood rise to amusement. Parked. Here. It is not.
Roll and coast.
Closed eyes of seas and salt. Sway.
Foam.
Grit.
Need to floss.
Lost.
Ripples more than so.
Pocket lint skies.
Surprise.
A bird flaps and flaps between
these amputee trees..
Seemingly a race-for the worm or woe.
Parallel universe, wings we used to have
with strings
I ask
Why finish first?
Let's cut them.
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