the goose goes to gander at the great peak

force my face to your bussom
my neck forms the rythm
of the blue aprain of my pain
main
stain
kane
chain me to the wall of hungry flesh
mesh
shorts the old men wear in the field playing hockey
with
your face
hate paste
make haste.


can you rythem my motion
for the seagull swoops over the ocean
rocks blocks hawks
where you flying to
manchu?