the soaping crowd

baby in the furnace was

your teeth apoclyp chambir

coffee sliced the baby

campus cast the teeth

your social skin under

mire the prison skin your

trigger snake was sound

or sausage will the baby

dance I frozen shimmer

slice the smugness upper

management iratecated in

heritance the baby ex

plores your digital fur

nace exexplained the

folding chair was radical

measurment hand made

bomb was baby pene

trate the public metric

written was it written

finger lined up to bom

b the baby contaminated

all the eaten rules the

codes ignited teeth were

will socks the baby’s

cred ignited teething

abyss vocabulary shadow

attacks the mirror attacked

will mirror the page be

lief or baby thrashes

through the rising sea

doub  le  ,see  n

Flickering through Jim Leftwich’s

Six months Aint No Sentence, Book 73, 2014