Growing iris. 

It was decided a rock was the shortest straw 

In the protracted life of the lightbulb emitting 

Manufacturer instructions talking with the iris 

Diodes sent by dutch lovers containing hornets 

That In the darkness hide during demanding times

from the day to night holding the world’s turrets 

With that look of a coffee drought presenting 

their hands to draw on the present rather 

Than Swimming for futures that we are versed 

in from dilating eyes of a tea house gamete  

The rinsed remains of the rivers hidden bank 

Shown in preparation for the  slide show 

Featuring charred leafs and stained grains

Snake oiled pocket filled with pie r square 

And to whom would I ask to wrestle with

The conundrum of captcha bottles with 

Lids that come undone when the dune 

looks Lovely from the rye winter mill.