Saturday, April 2, 2011

313. utterbly

entend in a tenderly
and innate in a swan

what swang from
and dandled along to

whatever could cull
and eachever that would

pull the little lever of
the swintled bundle

aching and eaching but
reaching for’t and them

ornst and ernst and arrant
my vlaying of self’s apparen’t

these knotes of gnowing
come to blowing

as wend was wanded
and wanted well

thus this and thas and thet
other won that

envy your envoie
and what I see

are sylvant vertues
gothered like a bothered bort

breaten back and
bartened down

tandered legal for the whorld
and tengsion at the vril yu zee

my laramie my costume bean
evenolopening wordth and whealm

in the seam of steaming and leaning
and for the worn of warp and wanting

there is for sound the sun
and for awks the words they screen

all the little screamings of brids
all the telvish screenings of dribs

and suddlebacked worse
scutillions of tarse and tensile strands

scrinched and scranched
and scrackling

prined and praned
and sprackled

whut be wready for the stayge
thought be steady which is straynge

but there beeps the little key
up there creeps the vebeled zee

in cations of dicing
cantations of inching

in vilvid midst
in liquid dwilts

my courbel my coupula
ensigned with a fluorish

enkented bented fent
alacradity balted scents

mi mynd on musick neverill
mi tung in rilling over muse

insite the h)ear who
gave me o shannnon

anon and anter
before and ever

in listing lasting
existent brasting

the delicatos of
the indicatoes of

your leftest foot or
wrightest hand

how could your briny
little hedd make

all these moosics
out of board cake

thive the vory
in wooden box

with strangs of medal
and the leddel hiddings on

and then there’s

that we could hear two
and wrather than to

sung our own singe
we lastened ourselves

to mists of tining
and tuned our hairs

to hists of pining
to find the sang

that sat and swam
and swank below

to raise aboven
where soungs could be

whut harts could hear
in these durk woords

of blinking and inking
wh’ere every woord

that I hear mayd
were wons that I

had writ and wrat to
your deare toon

of “itty”
and “utterbly”

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