An orange noose deleted the old blender as it lay in my chair.

Native sons fawned for comely trombones.

Eighty strangled flossers were distracted

By fresh eggs poring out of closets. Suit yourself. Taste your soup bowl.

You saw it, a long week lured into the shower of the new year,

But your notes discourse zero divestment of your flamboyant style.

You rattle like a key in its hole, luring, cheering on laws for dopes looming in the mire.

“Damn no dull grasping” says my wash bowl.

Fate arose and ate a plum estate,

News changed hands and a clear moon eeked out,

Commanding its glow over the lawns, over the sand. Too spongy to add,

The apples were tired and the oranges lay around the port. True

Vine dropper, animate and feed all the ages. Why won’t you

Let me walk to her knee as an elephant in the mud?