All Your Cash Is Mud Lost
the paper hunt chases
narrow-throated
palsy-struck
pack animals
their passion-kindled in
international oak beauties
an oblong-void
in the zealous party
an orange daisy
pressed in Sanskrit pages
offers a one-sidedness;
a wily net fixer newly-awakened
by the motorcade ballast
of the morning champion
returning in a pearl blue
paper-coated
musk bag
dripping mud pie
red eye
paracoto bark
more night-wandering in ninety-one,
once again out-of-print
open-aired and alcohol scented
a papyrus column
a paper clothed
and paint streaked
metric system
an oily organ desk
that's nothing but a
multiple-toothed
one-hoofed
pale-livered
middle-witted
orderly officer
mew gull