Our children hatched us, as the blur goes.
We’re trained in (bank) logos and several theologies,

Half as obvious as that degree you’re holding.
Hands down. Sleep then stand, take a verse, for

Sung language has a light vegan sexuality.

We chew to 1 side, noted by 3rd parties

Hanging out in unusual white corridors

Suggesting you’re still trembling, owing to


The chew off, just a short chopper ride

From the bank and trade. A vegan chew
With a so called mother gloss, 1st-
Order phenomena pitted together as cognates

Still coming to seed and adornment
(trade), inaudible ricochets feeding us

To remain disciplined on our new celestial motion weekend...
This calls for comfort and drill, “...habits of empire.”