steamed windmills
and rubies procreating
singing, in the breeze.
by the knife, the wife
and the shallow-hearted trife,
groans, gallows, and gallops
away faster than the wind’s white horse
in fragments and pieces.
dictate to the ducktape the hallowbatted
informational, so we can
ghost, get, and fodder.
(chimes in her hair
turn into icicles
when she goes outside.)
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