Bisket: Relational. (High in a Poon Tree) Now beaks swirl, snapping in the field Broadest among the family of the coat Of arms, and chaotically announce their Glottalite composition:
Green birds stand proud As upon an Ynglissh staff And the drunken Clota Wends itself like a Clyde, like a Spoude, like a tattooed Scot, And pushes, faces out, into an unending crucible Where "holier than thou" must mend with a van dyke bearding. O savor these concrete monastery boots their sinking feeling Which frankly yellowed by cousined paperbacks The moldy lichenthropy of evil's entropic negation: And what that wounded bird did. And what the feigning wounded learned to use. (Outside the Stadium) Now Goodrich ferried Skinner in a Bright Flaky sentiment, A cold sour shower we minstrels were shown, And like a tiny thistle of music, the one word, Now vipered with handsome, Sailed on petunias to a cross-eyed molecule Whose family name is Quarles' Fans Lachrymarum Now wilts the glossy peduncle of inborn logics, And forms good salts for a bath of prilling medullas. So let us say each crinkly peen and velunge were made a Captain of Chance in the Devil's Beef Tub made anon, And were all butterflowered, absit nomen, by all the meataphors In history, whose family name is Pyraizoon's Allotropic Agni.
