The longer the sun shines the higher
the hems rightly rise and share with produce
browsers hints of undersea angels
with secret scents inundated in coral
pink lingering after lap emergence
and immoral crocuses blossom
on top of dreamscapes insistent
on spreading an agenda pushing
penetration of the silken clasp…
oh come on! Silken Clasp! Silken Clasp!
Why you’d think mallards filled the sky.
Not textbook mallards but the monotone.