Dormouse Tungsten Turnstile on the Albaricoque Treelimb Standard

Bankers pour sandwich lights into the stomachs of angry pot switch camera figures
computation fragments like lasting ghosts of traps and stolen milk-ways frightened
rug-smith frigate bird doormap colliding with heaven and doors broken by crashing
chariots on a boat where the rivers part ways like dancers forming at the lips of God.

“We did not know where He was cursing and bruising the sea,” the weary captain said.
Now we stood on stomachs parting ways with hell and angry letters to aunts and patriots
of outhouses lapsing holes in the portsmith clock streets like a light to brilliant fountain
of antiquated faulty lights like doors that do not deliver me or part beneath a curtain
of God or bemusement of hallowed priests and rabbis, token armies for stolen street-
maps, neither beginning or vanquishing the downstains kitchen appointless gemstone.

Bring the consultation to the digging pier, like a conditioned breeze in the statute of hell.
Bring the reproached porchlight to the dentist pride, for my testing chamber, desire felled.