We unholster & dance across the room / a lumberjack in me & you. A cobra balance.  
The color wheel is graduated to go with our rainforest ethos & smiley 
faces. We speak in our mother tongue of fine ethos and interiors, to no product hewn. 
 
Poetry is vulgate hardened by joy orbs. Shotgun pleasure.  
A proposition (like this) is anxious. Nano technology I guess  
...what? This early  
When you got up your speech was  
Vibrating w/ a head cold, falling  
Flattened onto cyber note pads.....  
 
Mary had a little post-gossip; that’s all it was, poems  
Like politics controlling our anger; how minds are read.