but you know, it only multiplies.
that's why I enrolled in math one oh four hundred two.
I thought that I could minimize intensity within,
despite the false food of neglect.
why don't you cease to ossify the red-robed
looming crash of helmets and be be-
trothed instead of lackeying your way through
dazzle dwarfed denuded out-takes
in which memory is soured by inexactness
of the needed elbow room, the scent of curry,
the albondigas, each river free-frozen
as antitheses often are when rarified
despite the crew's chuck full grab-bag of misfortune,
the elementary my dear skat song,
the successorship of definite articles,
and the tendency to let go of rigid plats.
sheila e. murphy
