JOHN OLSON
DELINQUENT CIRCUITRY
A volt is having a since to glint. Nimble to town. Summer soon ceiling. A bee beside the knife. Catalogue of auburn. Wood as a word as a smudge as a snap as a seismic creamery. A blister, or bluster. A bag of nails jaw full of vowels jar full of babble. An equation which causes damask by adherence and hull. An idea broiled in thought. A scab articulate as property. Real estate is ravenous with borders. An escalator among the fiddlers encouraging ascendancy to an alphabet made of weight and fur and electrically charged particles. Each sound is packed in straw. Endocrine money. Experience irritated into silver. Extremities of meaning rattled in rhinoceros ink. Ambergris consonants. Occurrences of unbridled world excited by tin. A sun of crazily wiggling fingers rising out of a rule of thumb. Smile you’re on candid bareback. Godiva with a hammer. If I had a hammer a hammer and a nail I would build an epiglottis for swallows. A hive of irregularities. And a poem of ocher and jute. Judicious evaporation. Baubles of flash and cowlick. A democracy imposed on living cells of impolitic smirk Reno in February a mist of sweeping ambiguity coddled in tumultuous cognition a raw career of cactus and dimes soaked in conviction a black chair a contusion winking with ore a feeling for rust the nectar of scientific data upsetting a capital. Do you seek meaning and wisdom in a poem? I seek the occurrence of sound in protein. In propulsion. In bas-relief. The real estate of pleasure which is a perfectly red abstraction accelerating green again and again on a brawl of bronze.
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