Gerald Burns signature    


Dorset is made of animal fat isn’t Popean satire, the Hume book’s cover picture of him with
pouffe hat (velvet were they?) wigless at home, horsehair barrister ones like loofahs,
doormats, shredded wheat. . .absent as a Fowler bust ideality low over the brow
and a ribbon and thin black monocle to make it more outré than porcelain
my rate retardant and basket’s billed head today’s repeated effect, bill a
paperclip or clothespin inviting the nail (fill it with little clarinets.)
Pick’s study of Hopkins distinguishes periods of theological subtlety, olive
trees in Van Gogh multiply to compare, Gauguin’s Laval and quinces with
spectacles like Freud’s Id.
Parallels, marble in a ruler runnel was a makeshift while mine
(men’s cologne ampoule) though witty was hypnotized by bubbles, oil, lines.
We gave a dead horse aspect to the wood jaguar with stripes and a dog’s square mouth guarding
the Neiman manikin, actually not even there as Hurrian princess with deity (out
walking, the presumption of normality) would be, Tlaloc in clay exhibited low, Assyrian cats bangled.
Some ditch for these lifting the plow for gates, expect
clay figurines painted (legal to do this, these the appointed day past)
our bangles like thick rubber washers are eyes too. In scrolls pencileyebrowed
sages bluer than sky tell like some flower laws
remarkable as cinctures thrown Geryon for Doré, buffalo on
Lincoln steps no accident but without the knots-in-veil lettering chiseled like midge
haze over calf muscles just over, pocked stone as writing qualifies things.





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