She kisses clouds with breaths of Leather
drinking to surprise the snorting swelter
while Red throats trudge the pug
as winters dance belief in blunders.
Yet only with the ooze of supper do
we hug a dapper squeeze even to the slag.
Why must frogs tatter what bites
their blue could muster
or the wavering pistons glisten with dread?
Does not the apple swing steady
though napkins cut wrapped slumber
and move the eye asunder to tousle cracks
leaving flapjacks thin?
Clasp the vast conviction brazen rocks
for gutteral ruts have no peach tea cups!
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