scents of stolen underwear, lips on lips, nightshade fruits left for pescetarian foxes
barley wine style barely aged two weeks
opens immaturely as is the coup of Main Street Brewery
head is infantry
thin demarcation of winter to spring
off white to black chalice sea black hole supernova
a bald man cornered head only
speaks in oxygen tones
I tell him to give me the secret of water
to which his mouth retreats
deeps of swamp moss beside bubbling brook
cut fieldstone's on
{report just in}
this beer has been swallowed for further review
No comments:
Post a Comment