The Comber

fussed fuse >< hack lacking ,tress //
\\ born to soon yes <> trusty hung br
eak the thruster >><< loud log w
hat a bus )iness( >< fold the sha
dhow stinking in the mud >>><<< ah
clrouded lake ! <> my meal my mule




Plumbing

I doubt my faucet falters when
my face hangs over but your tussle
gathers in the afternoon and what’s
my closet alters is this place .p
lace of fumbled nickels ,keys of
ash .I banged my muscle lever
,lifted air across the snore and
nozzled halfway to the rope ,the
crumbled strands skittered cross
the floor .my number plunger
laughing past the window




Broth

brought the clacker out your toil
et loose and tilting butts
sat here .friday lather ,itchy
gate or nation ,so your bubbles
litter my yawning yard and sought
the stacks of oil .my father whines
my – ditch the plates and double
up the – glitter in the laundry .I
was saving the cancer off ,ticking in
the fork and puddled ,lathered ,bro
ken like a meatloaf gleaming in the soup




6


fuel butter
heap my g
land

wet dice





! !


pelted cheese
sock trust

bray





.s.


last think
just mort

all the fine





, ,




dunk


lock the gate
low ))) rot
fell my t

snore
((





led a ray


dust meat
...heh...

brains flavor





saw pile


sl,,,,,,aw
beak sore

dual