Blunt day on the back side of a hard, runt year.Steeple raised a quarter inch for each tipple. Amplexusloose and ineffectual, a weak grip, amputative.Almost. Embrace this my February, uncinched.
I sip one deep caffeine, then another, after noon,find the face of Jesus in the nugae of her navel.
New day, aureole, sex forgone under sheets ciboreal.Doused lonely, pronounced unafraid.My bent beech limb asunder,I am under, I am proud.
Follow this trail, a giglot,March me into the earth.