Steve Timm


as scramble as e
thix ma
trix as dirgeative
as iterant desire only i
curve sound leaves axis
grease dirigible tendresse foe
wonder no fly
meant to be hurt merely
likes shit the sky a
wear to
return to dapple my tongue
three-glanded gob down
is as oasis as a fish'd
fin off


sent balm

nigh in
loss horsed
scent these
aint shunt
ways no
track no
hobbler pose
from the
retina of
wack dream
posses on
the owner
of this
hydrant metafuge

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