162

I BAFFLED BY THEIR APPEARANCE

Cut the duck. I carry my dear
Juror into our index of sleep
Practice this honorary damage harangue.
Parallel sleep. All the leaflets
Born under the bed of the dinosaur queen
She would lose her white apple if anyone felt.
She preserves a numbing smile
Believing anything including herself.
One knows this walking sidestreets
Parallel to her daily coronation.