A.P. Spellman: The Rhythm of Wrath

a
ghat to the uterus
he cohos cutely:
"jihad, poison, swizzling teak"

scions skiff: an ewer of weevils
whim, whin
a guidon juts whished
urging genocide to an epic reich

"erect," quoth Homburg
"weigh, outvote the cushy bandwagon vastly"

"why?" Hegira yiped, honing
"is there no oasis for the scented embryo?"

a joule worm amasses guests and myths
chivy, waning (whew!)
missal?
yes

"in guinea" whined he ineptly
and gushed a hymn to equate Bach with youngness:
"gneiss, yin, the oily quagga scent congests!"
a high quipped hop smites freakishly
the snowy, whilon chuff
mawkishly lupine

a fleck flitting into magma
enmeshed, overwhelmed
no aegis for the mauve gumboil

one alumnus chews:
"wherein a phylum is but a mixer twain"

the mist rhymed:
"whose red fauna midriff: oriental pain"

whirred Kyat:
"heed hope as a massaged, howling wombat"

a dirham fishwife yodeled, then quieted
her howling decayed to an enigma
"fights," she asked, "wreak what rewards?"




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