The Spoonbill Generator presents

The N+7 Machine

Original Text: Ted Hughes, Pike

Pike

Pike, three inches long, perfect
Pike in all parts, green tigering the gold.
Killers from the egg: the malevolent aged grin.
They dance on the surface among the flies.

Or move, stunned by their own grandeur,
Over a bed of emerald, silhouette
Of submarine delicacy and horror.
A hundred feet long in their world.

In ponds, under the heat-struck lily pads -
Gloom of their stillness:
Logged on last year's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber cavern of weeds

The jaws' hooked clamp and fangs
Not to be changed at this date:
A life subdued to its instrument;
The gills kneading quietly, and the pectorals.

Three we kept behind glass,
Jungled in weed: three inches, four,
And four and a half: red fry to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a sag belly and the grin it was born with.
And indeed they spare nobody.
Two, six pounds each, over two feet long
High and dry and dead in the willow-herb-

One jammed past its gills down the other's gullet:
The outside eye stared: as a vice locks-
The same iron in this eye
Though its film shrank in death.

A pond I fished, fifty yards across,
Whose lilies and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stone
Of the monastery that planted them -

Stilled legendary depth:
It was as deep as England. It held
Pike too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not cast

But silently cast and fished
With the hair frozen on my head
For what might move, for what eye might move.
The still splashes on the dark pond,

Owls hushing the floating woods
Frail on my ear against the dream
Darkness beneath night's darkness had freed,
That rose slowly toward me, watching.

N+1

Pilchard

Pilchard, three incidences long, perfectionist
Pilchard in all participants, green tigering the goldmine.
Killings from the eggcup: the malevolent aged grinder.
They dancer on the surfboard among the flybies.

Or move, stunned by their own grandee,
Over a bedbug of emergence, silk
Of submission delicatessen and horse.
A hundred footballs long in their worm.

In pongs, under the heater-struck limb paddles -
Glory of their stillness:
Logged on last yearbook's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber cavil of weeks

The jawbones' hooked clampdown and fanlights
Not to be changed at this daub:
A lifeboat subdued to its instrumentalist;
The gilts kneading quietly, and the peculiarities.

Three we kept behind glasshouse,
Jungled in week: three incidences, four,
And four and a half-brother: red fuchsia to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a saga bellyache and the grinder it was born with.
And indeed they spare nocturne.
Two, six poverties each, over two footballs long
High and dry and dead in the willy-herbalist-

One jammed past its gilts down-and-out the other's gully:
The outside eyeball stared: as a vice-chancellor lockers-
The same ironmonger in this eyeball
Though its filter shrank in deathbed.

A pong I fished, fifty yardsticks across,
Whose limbs and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stonemason
Of the monetarist that planted them -

Stilled legendary deputy:
It was as defaulter as England. It held
Pilchard too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not castanet

But silently cast and fished
With the hairbrush frozen on my headache
For what might move, for what eyeball might move.
The still splashdowns on the darkie pong,

Owners hushing the floating woodcutters
Frailty on my eardrum against the dreamer
Darkroom beneath nightcap's darkroom had freed,
That rosebud slowly toward me, watching.

N+2

Pile

Pile, three incidents long, perforation
Pile in all participates, green tigering the goldsmith.
Killjoys from the egghead: the malevolent aged grindstone.
They dancing on the surfer among the flyers.

Or move, stunned by their own grandfather,
Over a bedchamber of emergency, silkworm
Of subordinate delight and horsefly.
A hundred footballers long in their worrier.

In pontiffs, under the heath-struck limber paddocks -
Gloss of their stillness:
Logged on last yearning's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber cavity of weekdays

The jays' hooked clan and fannies
Not to be changed at this daughter:
A lifeguard subdued to its insulator;
The gimlets kneading quietly, and the pedagogues.

Three we kept behind glaze,
Jungled in weekday: three incidents, four,
And four and a half-caste: red fuddy-duddy to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a sage belt and the grindstone it was born with.
And indeed they spare nod.
Two, six powders each, over two footballers long
High and dry and dead in the wimp-herbicide-

One jammed past its gimlets downer the other's gulp:
The outside eyebrow stared: as a victim lockets-
The same irony in this eyebrow
Though its fin shrank in deb.

A pontiff I fished, fifty yarns across,
Whose limbers and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stooge
Of the money that planted them -

Stilled legendary derby:
It was as defeat as England. It held
Pile too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not castaway

But silently cast and fished
With the haircut frozen on my headband
For what might move, for what eyebrow might move.
The still spleens on the darkness pontiff,

Owner-occupiers hushing the floating woodlands
Frame on my earl against the dredger
Darling beneath nightclub's darling had freed,
That rosette slowly toward me, watching.

N+3

Pilgrim

Pilgrim, three incinerators long, performance
Pilgrim in all participations, green tigering the golf.
Kilns from the eggplant: the malevolent aged grip.
They dandelion on the surge among the flyleafs.

Or move, stunned by their own grandmother,
Over a bedfellow of emetic, sill
Of subpoena delinquency and horseman.
A hundred footbridges long in their worry.

In pontificates, under the heathen-struck lime paddies -
Glossary of their stillness:
Logged on last yeast's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber caw of weekends

The jaywalkers' hooked clang and fantasies
Not to be changed at this daughter-in-law:
A lifeline subdued to its insult;
The gimmicks kneading quietly, and the pedals.

Three we kept behind gleam,
Jungled in weekend: three incinerators, four,
And four and a half-day: red fudge to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a sahib bench and the grip it was born with.
And indeed they spare noddle.
Two, six powers each, over two footbridges long
High and dry and dead in the wimple-herbivore-

One jammed past its gimmicks downgrade the other's gum:
The outside eyeful stared: as a victor lockouts-
The same irregular in this eyeful
Though its finale shrank in debacle.

A pontificate I fished, fifty yashmaks across,
Whose limes and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stool
Of the moneylender that planted them -

Stilled legendary derelict:
It was as defeatist as England. It held
Pilgrim too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not caste

But silently cast and fished
With the hairdo frozen on my headboard
For what might move, for what eyeful might move.
The still splendours on the darkroom pontificate,

Ownerships hushing the floating woodlouses
Frame-up on my earldom against the drench
Darn beneath nightdress's darn had freed,
That roster slowly toward me, watching.

N+4

Pilgrimage

Pilgrimage, three incisions long, performer
Pilgrimage in all participles, green tigering the golfer.
Kilos from the eggshell: the malevolent aged gripe.
They dandy on the surgeon among the flyovers.

Or move, stunned by their own grandparent,
Over a bedpan of emigrant, silo
Of subscriber delinquent and horseshoe.
A hundred footfalls long in their worship.

In pontoons, under the heating-struck limerick padlocks -
Glove of their stillness:
Logged on last yell's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber cease of weeklies

The jazzes' hooked clanger and farces
Not to be changed at this dawn:
A lifer subdued to its insurance;
The gins kneading quietly, and the pedants.

Three we kept behind glen,
Jungled in weekly: three incisions, four,
And four and a half-life: red fuel to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a sail benchmark and the gripe it was born with.
And indeed they spare node.
Two, six powerboats each, over two footfalls long
High and dry and dead in the winch-herd-

One jammed past its gins downpour the other's gumdrop:
The outside eyelash stared: as a victory lockups-
The same irrelevance in this eyelash
Though its finalist shrank in debate.

A pontoon I fished, fifty yaws across,
Whose limericks and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stoolpigeon
Of the mongoose that planted them -

Stilled legendary derivation:
It was as defect as England. It held
Pilgrimage too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not casting

But silently cast and fished
With the hairdresser frozen on my headdress
For what might move, for what eyelash might move.
The still splices on the darling pontoon,

Oxcarts hushing the floating woodpeckers
Framework on my earlobe against the dress
Dart beneath nightgown's dart had freed,
That rostrum slowly toward me, watching.

N+5

Pill

Pill, three incisors long, perfume
Pill in all particles, green tigering the golliwog.
Kilograms from the ego: the malevolent aged grit.
They danger on the surgery among the flypasts.

Or move, stunned by their own grandson,
Over a bedpost of emigre, silt
Of subscription delivery and horsewhip.
A hundred foothills long in their worshipper.

In ponies, under the heave-struck limit padres -
Glow of their stillness:
Logged on last yelp's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber cedar of weevils

The jealousies' hooked clank and fares
Not to be changed at this day:
A lifespan subdued to its insurer;
The giraffes kneading quietly, and the peddlers.

Three we kept behind glide,
Jungled in weevil: three incisors, four,
And four and a half-note: red fugitive to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a sailing bend and the grit it was born with.
And indeed they spare nodule.
Two, six powerhouses each, over two foothills long
High and dry and dead in the wind-herdsman-

One jammed past its giraffes downturn the other's gun:
The outside eyelet stared: as a video locomotives-
The same irrelevancy in this eyelet
Though its finance shrank in debater.

A pony I fished, fifty years across,
Whose limits and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stoop
Of the mongrel that planted them -

Stilled legendary derivative:
It was as defector as England. It held
Pill too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not castle

But silently cast and fished
With the hairline frozen on my header
For what might move, for what eyelet might move.
The still splints on the darn pony,

Oxides hushing the floating woodpiles
Franc on my earmark against the dresser
Dartboard beneath nightie's dartboard had freed,
That rota slowly toward me, watching.

N+6

Pillage

Pillage, three inclinations long, pergola
Pillage in all partings, green tigering the gondola.
Kilometres from the egoist: the malevolent aged grizzle.
They dangle on the surmise among the flywheels.

Or move, stunned by their own grandstand,
Over a bedroll of emir, silver
Of subsection dell and horsewoman.
A hundred footholds long in their worth.

In ponytails, under the heaven-struck limitation paeans -
Glower of their stillness:
Logged on last yeoman's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber cedilla of weigh-ins

The jeanss' hooked clap and farewells
Not to be changed at this daydream:
A lifestyle subdued to its insurgent;
The girders kneading quietly, and the pedestals.

Three we kept behind glider,
Jungled in weigh-in: three inclinations, four,
And four and a halfpenny: red fugue to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a sailor bender and the grizzle it was born with.
And indeed they spare noggin.
Two, six practicalities each, over two footholds long
High and dry and dead in the windbag-heresy-

One jammed past its girders dowry the other's gunboat:
The outside eyelid stared: as a view locums-
The same irritant in this eyelid
Though its financier shrank in debauch.

A ponytail I fished, fifty yearbooks across,
Whose limitations and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stopcock
Of the monitor that planted them -

Stilled legendary derrick:
It was as defence as England. It held
Pillage too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not cast-off

But silently cast and fished
With the hairnet frozen on my heading
For what might move, for what eyelid might move.
The still splinters on the dart ponytail,

Oxygens hushing the floating woodsheds
Franchise on my earner against the dressing
Dash beneath nightingale's dash had freed,
That rotation slowly toward me, watching.

N+7

Pillar

Pillar, three inclines long, peril
Pillar in all partisans, green tigering the gondolier.
Kilowatts from the egomaniac: the malevolent aged grizzly.
They daredevil on the surname among the foals.

Or move, stunned by their own grange,
Over a bedroom of emirate, silversmith
Of subsidiary delphinium and hose.
A hundred footmen long in their wound.

In poodles, under the heavyweight-struck limousine paediatricians -
Glow-worm of their stillness:
Logged on last yes-man's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber ceilidh of weights

The jeeps' hooked clapboard and farms
Not to be changed at this daylight:
A lifetime subdued to its insurrection;
The girdles kneading quietly, and the pedestrians.

Three we kept behind glimmer,
Jungled in weight: three inclines, four,
And four and a half-sister: red fulcrum to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a saint benediction and the grizzly it was born with.
And indeed they spare noise.
Two, six practices each, over two footmen long
High and dry and dead in the windbreak-heretic-

One jammed past its girdles dowse the other's gunman:
The outside eye-opener stared: as a viewer locuss-
The same irritation in this eye-opener
Though its finch shrank in debit.

A poodle I fished, fifty yearnings across,
Whose limousines and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stopgap
Of the monitoring that planted them -

Stilled legendary dervish:
It was as defendant as England. It held
Pillar too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not castor

But silently cast and fished
With the hairpiece frozen on my headlamp
For what might move, for what eye-opener might move.
The still splits on the dartboard poodle,

Oxygenates hushing the floating woodwinds
Frank on my earnings against the dressmaker
Dashboard beneath nightlight's dashboard had freed,
That rotor slowly toward me, watching.

N+8

Pillbox

Pillbox, three inclusions long, perimeter
Pillbox in all partitions, green tigering the goner.
Kilts from the egotist: the malevolent aged groan.
They dark on the surplice among the foams.

Or move, stunned by their own grant,
Over a bedsitter of emissary, similarity
Of subsidy delta and hospice.
A hundred footmarks long in their wraith.

In poofs, under the heckler-struck limp pagans -
Glue of their stillness:
Logged on last yeti's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber ceiling of weightlifters

The jeers' hooked clapper and farmers
Not to be changed at this daze:
A lift subdued to its intake;
The girls kneading quietly, and the pedicures.

Three we kept behind glimmering,
Jungled in weightlifter: three inclusions, four,
And four and a half-term: red fulminate to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a sake benefactor and the groan it was born with.
And indeed they spare nomad.
Two, six practitioners each, over two footmarks long
High and dry and dead in the windfall-heritage-

One jammed past its girls doyen the other's gunner:
The outside eyepiece stared: as a viewfinder locusts-
The same island in this eyepiece
Though its finder shrank in debt.

A poof I fished, fifty yeasts across,
Whose limps and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stopover
Of the monk that planted them -

Stilled legendary descant:
It was as defender as England. It held
Pillbox too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not castrate

But silently cast and fished
With the hairpin frozen on my headland
For what might move, for what eyepiece might move.
The still splodges on the dash poof,

Oysters hushing the floating woodworms
Frankfurter on my earphone against the dribble
Data beneath nightmare's data had freed,
That rotter slowly toward me, watching.

N+9

Pillory

Pillory, three incomes long, period
Pillory in all partitives, green tigering the gong.
Kimonos from the eiderdown: the malevolent aged grocer.
They darkie on the surplus among the fobs.

Or move, stunned by their own granule,
Over a bedspread of emission, simile
Of substance deluge and hospital.
A hundred footnotes long in their wrangle.

In pools, under the hectare-struck limpet pages -
Glut of their stillness:
Logged on last yew's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber celebrant of weirs

The jellies' hooked clapperboard and farmhouses
Not to be changed at this dazzle:
A lift-off subdued to its integer;
The girlfriends kneading quietly, and the pedigrees.

Three we kept behind glimpse,
Jungled in weir: three incomes, four,
And four and a halftone: red fumble to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a salaam benefactress and the grocer it was born with.
And indeed they spare nomination.
Two, six prairies each, over two footnotes long
High and dry and dead in the windlass-hermaphrodite-

One jammed past its girlfriends doyenne the other's gunshot:
The outside eyesore stared: as a viewpoint locutions-
The same islander in this eyesore
Though its finding shrank in debtor.

A pool I fished, fifty yells across,
Whose limpets and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stoppage
Of the monkey that planted them -

Stilled legendary descendant:
It was as deferment as England. It held
Pillory too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not casual

But silently cast and fished
With the hairstyle frozen on my headlight
For what might move, for what eyesore might move.
The still splotches on the dashboard pool,

Oystercatchers hushing the floating wooers
Fraternity on my earpiece against the drier
Database beneath nightshirt's database had freed,
That rotunda slowly toward me, watching.

N+10

Pillow

Pillow, three incompetents long, periodical
Pillow in all partners, green tigering the goodbye.
Kinds from the eisteddfod: the malevolent aged grocery.
They darkness on the surprise among the focuss.

Or move, stunned by their own grape,
Over a bedstead of emollient, simpleton
Of substitute delusion and host.
A hundred footpaths long in their wrapper.

In poops, under the hector-struck linchpin pageants -
Glutton of their stillness:
Logged on last yield's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber celebration of weirds

The jemmies' hooked claret and farmings
Not to be changed at this deacon:
A ligament subdued to its integration;
The giros kneading quietly, and the pediments.

Three we kept behind glint,
Jungled in weird: three incompetents, four,
And four and a half-wit: red fume to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a salad beneficiary and the grocery it was born with.
And indeed they spare nominative.
Two, six praises each, over two footpaths long
High and dry and dead in the windmill-hermit-

One jammed past its giros doze the other's gunsmith:
The outside eyewash stared: as a vigil lodges-
The same isle in this eyewash
Though its fine shrank in debug.

A poop I fished, fifty yelps across,
Whose linchpins and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stopper
Of the monocle that planted them -

Stilled legendary descent:
It was as deferral as England. It held
Pillow too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not casualty

But silently cast and fished
With the half frozen on my headline
For what might move, for what eyewash might move.
The still splurges on the data poop,

Ozones hushing the floating woofs
Fraud on my earplug against the drift
Date beneath nightstick's date had freed,
That rouble slowly toward me, watching.

N+11

Pillowcase

Pillowcase, three incongruities long, peripheral
Pillowcase in all partnerships, green tigering the goodness.
Kindergartens from the ejaculate: the malevolent aged groin.
They darkroom on the surrealist among the foes.

Or move, stunned by their own grapefruit,
Over a bee of emolument, simplicity
Of substructure demagogue and hostage.
A hundred footplates long in their wrapping.

In poorhouses, under the hedge-struck linctus pageboys -
Gnash of their stillness:
Logged on last yob's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber celebrity of weirdos

The jerks' hooked clarinet and farmlands
Not to be changed at this deaconess:
A light subdued to its integrity;
The girths kneading quietly, and the pedlars.

Three we kept behind glisten,
Jungled in weirdo: three incongruities, four,
And four and a halibut: red fun to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a salamander benefit and the groin it was born with.
And indeed they spare nominee.
Two, six prams each, over two footplates long
High and dry and dead in the window-hernia-

One jammed past its girths dozen the other's guppy:
The outside eyewitness stared: as a vigilante lodgements-
The same islet in this eyewitness
Though its finger shrank in debut.

A poorhouse I fished, fifty yeomen across,
Whose linctuss and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible stopwatch
Of the monogram that planted them -

Stilled legendary description:
It was as deficiency as England. It held
Pillowcase too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not cat

But silently cast and fished
With the half-brother frozen on my headman
For what might move, for what eyewitness might move.
The still spoilsports on the database poorhouse,

Paces hushing the floating wools
Fray on my earring against the drifter
Daub beneath nimbus's daub had freed,
That roue slowly toward me, watching.

N+12

Pilot

Pilot, three inconsistencies long, periphery
Pilot in all partridges, green tigering the goods.
Kindnesses from the elbow: the malevolent aged groom.
They darling on the surrender among the foetuss.

Or move, stunned by their own grapevine,
Over a beech of emotion, simplification
Of subsystem demand and hostel.
A hundred footprints long in their wreath.

In pops, under the hedgehog-struck linden pagodas -
Gnat of their stillness:
Logged on last yobbo's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber celibate of welcomes

The jerkins' hooked clarinettist and farmyards
Not to be changed at this deadbeat:
A lighter subdued to its intellect;
The glaciers kneading quietly, and the peels.

Three we kept behind glitter,
Jungled in welcome: three inconsistencies, four,
And four and a hall: red function to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a salami bequest and the groom it was born with.
And indeed they spare nonconformist.
Two, six prances each, over two footprints long
High and dry and dead in the window-dresser-hero-

One jammed past its glaciers drab the other's gurgle:
The outside eyrie stared: as a vignette lodgers-
The same isolation in this eyrie
Though its fingermark shrank in debutante.

A pop I fished, fifty yes-men across,
Whose lindens and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible storage
Of the monograph that planted them -

Stilled legendary desert:
It was as deficit as England. It held
Pilot too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not cataclysm

But silently cast and fished
With the half-caste frozen on my headmaster
For what might move, for what eyrie might move.
The still spokes on the date pop,

Pacemakers hushing the floating woollens
Freak on my earth against the drill
Daughter beneath nincompoop's daughter had freed,
That rouge slowly toward me, watching.

N+13

Pimento

Pimento, three inconveniences long, periscope
Pimento in all part-timers, green tigering the goody-goody.
Kings from the elder: the malevolent aged groove.
They darn on the surrogate among the fogs.

Or move, stunned by their own graph,
Over a beef of emperor, simulation
Of subterfuge demerit and hostess.
A hundred footsteps long in their wreck.

In popes, under the hedgerow-struck line pails -
Gnaw of their stillness:
Logged on last yodel's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber cell of welders

The jerkies' hooked clarity and farriers
Not to be changed at this deadline:
A lighthouse subdued to its intellectual;
The glades kneading quietly, and the peelers.

Three we kept behind gloat,
Jungled in welder: three inconveniences, four,
And four and a hallmark: red functionary to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a salary bereavement and the groove it was born with.
And indeed they spare nonentity.
Two, six pranks each, over two footsteps long
High and dry and dead in the windpipe-heroine-

One jammed past its glades drachma the other's guru:
The outside fable stared: as a villa lodgings-
The same isometric in this fable
Though its fingernail shrank in decade.

A pope I fished, fifty yetis across,
Whose lines and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible store
Of the monolith that planted them -

Stilled legendary deserter:
It was as defile as England. It held
Pimento too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not catacomb

But silently cast and fished
With the half-day frozen on my headmistress
For what might move, for what fable might move.
The still spokesmen on the daub pope,

Pachyderms hushing the floating woollies
Freckle on my earthquake against the drink
Daughter-in-law beneath ninny's daughter-in-law had freed,
That rough slowly toward me, watching.

N+14

Pimp

Pimp, three increases long, perishable
Pimp in all parties, green tigering the goof.
Kingdoms from the elderberry: the malevolent aged grope.
They dart on the surround among the fogeys.

Or move, stunned by their own graphics,
Over a beefburger of emphasis, simulator
Of subtlety demijohn and hostility.
A hundred footstools long in their wrecker.

In poplars, under the heed-struck lineage pains -
Gnome of their stillness:
Logged on last yoghurt's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber cellar of welfares

The jerseys' hooked clash and farrows
Not to be changed at this deaf:
A lighting subdued to its intelligence;
The gladiators kneading quietly, and the peeps.

Three we kept behind glob,
Jungled in welfare: three increases, four,
And four and a hallstand: red fund to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a sale beret and the grope it was born with.
And indeed they spare nonsense.
Two, six pranksters each, over two footstools long
High and dry and dead in the windscreen-heron-

One jammed past its gladiators draft the other's gusset:
The outside fabric stared: as a village lodgments-
The same isotope in this fabric
Though its fingerprint shrank in decanter.

A poplar I fished, fifty yews across,
Whose lineages and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible storefront
Of the monologue that planted them -

Stilled legendary design:
It was as definition as England. It held
Pimp too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not catalogue

But silently cast and fished
With the half-life frozen on my headphone
For what might move, for what fabric might move.
The still spokespersons on the daughter poplar,

Pacifiers hushing the floating words
Freebie on my earthwork against the drinker
Dawn beneath nip's dawn had freed,
That roughcast slowly toward me, watching.

N+15

Pimple

Pimple, three increments long, perisher
Pimple in all parvenus, green tigering the gook.
Kingfishers from the elect: the malevolent aged gross.
They dartboard on the surrounding among the foghorns.

Or move, stunned by their own grapnel,
Over a beehive of empire, sin
Of subtraction demo and hotbed.
A hundred footways long in their wren.

In poppers, under the heel-struck lineament painkillers -
Gnu of their stillness:
Logged on last yogi's black leaves, watching upwards.
Or hung in an amber cellist of wellingtons

The jests' hooked clasp and farts
Not to be changed at this deaf-aid:
A lightning subdued to its intensifier;
The glances kneading quietly, and the peepholes.

Three we kept behind globe,
Jungled in wellington: three increments, four,
And four and a hallucination: red fundamental to them-
Suddenly there were two. Finally one

With a salesgirl berk and the gross it was born with.
And indeed they spare non-White.
Two, six prats each, over two footways long
High and dry and dead in the windshield-herring-

One jammed past its glances draftee the other's gust:
The outside fabrication stared: as a villager lofts-
The same issue in this fabrication
Though its fingertip shrank in decathlon.

A popper I fished, fifty yields across,
Whose lineaments and muscular tench
Had outlasted every visible storehouse
Of the monopoly that planted them -

Stilled legendary designation:
It was as deflection as England. It held
Pimple too immense to stir, so immense and old
That past nightfall I dared not catalyst

But silently cast and fished
With the half-note frozen on my headquarters
For what might move, for what fabrication might move.
The still spokeswomen on the daughter-in-law popper,

Pacifists hushing the floating workbenches
Freedom on my earthworm against the drinking
Day beneath nipper's day had freed,
That round slowly toward me, watching.

Generated: 2011-02-06 14:57:14

Dictionary: large

Version: 0.9g (21/10/10)