Thomas Fink

                 REASSURANCE CUBE HUNT

                                      Night  ravenous:  shadows  circulating 

                               competitive                                   corpses. 

                        Libido                                                      super

                  intendent                                                   spooked

             to reason                                                      with mute

        crystals,                                                         to rummage

    for                                                                       horoscopic                                       

thunderclap  that will blot this all  & ring     finally    triumphal. 


Munching my way through a mint mansion. Acre of 
handmade                                               silhouette. 
Orchestrated                                              dream? 
Elapsed                                              pertinence? 
Farewell, bias!                                   Across this
expensive                                             freeway,                       
black cars                                     burn sunrise 
red. Passing                                out earplugs:                                  
“Remember,                                     without 
delay, to mete                           out to those                                                
poets their                                     merited 
chagrin.” A                                 telethon 
for poetry                                 allergies: 
first stage in                          forging an                     
excommunication                pitchfork. 
Yet opposite                              walls    
curve      toward      one      another.

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