slow syrup in my sternum sweetens the lost leaves’ silver session
my hand sways a rhyme in cursive air above the first bluet
trick of the recursive planet. Though, with his pet dodo on the run,
something other than the hook in your mouth? Hold the end of this
the red planet’s raspberry drupelets thank Vonnegut
a nest feathered with fingers sticky from pulling out your eyes
XXXXXXX, whose job curses us. In sister cities of emerging-market stars,