A cactus maketh ought the theatre should Know
mother’s hidden Seems once sown with fine tooth bone
and cancer tomes of three toes Dew’s Scuff on
Poured Portland meet the ruffs of the night
and neither now heard pulling clay glazed straws
Away from wormhole vocoder toungue grazed
amongst jullswater was last seen leading corn
the drumming skin toward soil and laughter
lost too the stars and the Aromatic trail of broiler
Ripe of plumes and stripe pillow feathers.
