T H E  T E L E P H O D Y S S E Y 
Brighton Word Factory's re-telling of The Odyssey by Homer (translated by Robert Fagels,) via a game of telephone.  
The following people were involved in orally transmitting the original texts into the poems that follow...

Michael F. Gill, April Penn, Arturo Fernandez, Damien Brewer, Kristin Leonard, Nathan Comstock, Patrick Shaughnessy, Susanna Kittredge, Valerie Loveland, Michael Monroe, Lucie Monroe, Gemma Cooper-Novack, Lindsey Yuriko Warriner, Charles Rose, Alex Ehrhardt, Ron Rechnitz, Christopher R. Vaughan, Dave Mckenna, Lizzie Devane, Chad Parenteau, Jonah Comstock, Chalkey Horenstein, Ellen Zellner, Whitney L. Sauvé, Christopher Kain, Austin Hendricks, Ramy Abdelghani, Lisa Peterson, Christine Langill, Shelby Keizer, Claire Andersen, and Sojn Boothroyd.

Michael F. Gill, April Penn, Kristin Leonard, Nathan Comstock, Patrick Shaughnessy, Susanna Kittredge, Valerie Loveland, Gemma Cooper-Novack, Charles Rose, Alex Ehrhardt, Dave Mckenna, Lizzie Devane, Jonah Comstock, Austin Hendricks, Ramy Abdelghani, Christine Langill, Claire Andersen, Catherine Martin, Sarah Irwin, Phoenix Bunke, Kristopher Ball, Chloé Cunha, Samantha Milowsky, Noe Dueñas, Miriam Chenaif, Eli Cohen, Ariel Martz-Oberlander, Talia Martz-Oberlander, Kelly Kümm, April Grant, Olivia Medoff, Joe Stohlman, Rob LaMothe, and Jeff Medoff.

Michael F. Gill, April Penn, Valerie Loveland, Susanna Kittredge, Gemma Cooper-Novack, Patrick Shaughnessy, Kristin Leonard, Ramy Abdelghani, Sarah Irwin, Charles Rose, Damien Brewer, Nathan Comstock, Jonah Comstock, Alex Ehrhardt, Billie Moss, Maureen Cosgrove, Bill Howley, Thomas Gagnon, Angela Davis, Emily Carroll, Catherine Martin, Austin Hendricks, Sue Savoy, Clay Ventre, M.P. Carver, Phoenix Bunke, Quentin Burns, Nia Mendy, Jess Riz, Kristen Picardi, Judea Beatrice, Dana No, Lindsey Warriner, Christian G., Michael Monroe, Lucie Monroe, and Gabrielle Blonder.

The telephoned texts were transcribed by Michael F. Gill & Gemma Cooper-Novack.

Book One was written at bi-weekly intervals starting on June 14th, 2012, and ending on May 2nd, 2013.
Book Two was written at bi-weekly intervals starting on May 16th, 2013, and ending on March 6th, 2014. Book Three was written at bi-weekly intervals starting on March 20th, 2014, and ending on July 23rd, 2015.

Parts III and IV from Book II were accidentally transmitted from the same section.

Click here to start at Book Two.
Click here to start at Book Three.

Saint me, oh muse, to the man who blundered the land.
A mouse and the city of Troy have many points that have been conquered, 
Many foreign hearts that sink into the ocean thinking "We should be loved."
He cannot save himself from distaste, the requiem that's in hell.
Wanting out of this moose, the gods spoke with fury.
By now all the soldiers are at home by the waves.
But the man alone, his heart whispers a single word: Calypso.
The water nymph wanted his name for her supper.
And then as the moon turned the wind turned a ceiling in the sky.
In Ithaca he was not even there in boats.
Someone told Poseidon and then moved on among the lightning and the ships.
But Poseidon, reaching the far end of the ocean near the Corinthians, said:
"The person splits in two. 
The sun goes up, the sun goes down, and that is where the sun lives."
In pearls, the shimmering treasure chest. 
But the other gods were sent there by Zeus, which is where they were from.
Taken from this trouble sadly Agamemnon's horse was killed.
Zeus, recalling the language of the gods, said, "How dare the humans think that they are gods?"
From us and ourselves and our miseries we become our own ways,
Compound our fair share of hell beyond any luck.
Above and beyond the trees, he steamed and stole his neighbor's wife.
Although he knew in advance his future, he told himself in advance.
At the consulate, the god Hermes said, "Do not destroy the predicament."
Where revenge comes from Agamemnon's mouth, the sun and the moon fight to the death.
So Hermes was warned with all the streams of the world,
And now he proved himself the spark at the end of a luau.
Father and son, he is groaning! They go to the bottom of the steps where he is found.
He let them all die and programmed ships like Odysseus.
In cursèd suffering, he suffers his curse like an axe falling to the ground,
Riding in a cinder in the sea on the dark side of the ocean.
A daughter of anthills, he took the dark side of the sand,
The thirsting boulders that keep the diseased daughters fasting.
How this man tries to sway with his long active words!
But he longs for so much more, his strong spirit longs for so much more.
Olympia, Olympia longs to die like Zeus with a scythe in his hand.
Have you roamed for all this era the sacrifice of the gods?
But try, Zeus, why, Zeus, cry, Odysseus!
While Zeus holds the thunderhead, the child between his feet dangles.
How could we forget Odysseus, O, Odysseus, who sails in all manners towards the gods?
He kissed the gods that rolled the sky and Poseidon loved the sea.
Forever streaming against the stolen sky and the giant Cyclops penis,
he was telling the Cyclops whose nymph was boring and faceless.
There in the cave they made love, they made laws.
And now while he is blinded by the sun the earthquake god would love to kill Odysseus,
Drive us all from our native lands, put us all together.
Now let us make the Poseidon as satisfied, and the seas can come home.
And now he can bend the will of the others' gods, his act, his sword, his will…
I've seen the flashing in her eyes bright, son of Kronos of the camp.
For now, what appeases the blistered gods for now, this is Odysseus on his head.
What is now the past lies to Athena's Allen wrench; what is shit, what is Athena's passion now?
To the nymphs with brave bosoms we return him there.
When I went down to Ithaca, I took the spies with courage
To bring Achilles to the feast, to slaughter him on and on,
As straws of sheep and shampooing sheep shit would draw us in to kill.
Here to learn about his father's dear homecoming, he hoped to learn some more
From the Morrison of the world. Athena reached up and switched her supple,
The overflowed gold which rests in the earth and takes over the sky.
She sees the vast spear with weighted tip to heat the line,
Athena's mighty daughter, she struck down from her mighty beak and swept for Olympus.
And Olympia, sitting at Olympus's feet, grabbed her brown spear and shot—
She looked for the Lord of Lands, and spat taffy all over the sky.
There she found swaggering suitors, amusing themselves by throwing dice at the walls.
Fountains of hordes in attendance, where whores came by and studied
The snowmen, like the mixing bowls with flowers and whey, with books and tables.
So other suitors sliced the carbs from the slices of meat.
The first suitor was Telemachus, sitting aside the suitors, rife with grief,
They could almost see his father drop from the clouds in an eye,
And drive the suitors out from the palace, rigging them with meat.
Daydreaming, amongst the suitors, he glimpsed Telemachus and Zeus, with greens,
And from there, his pants wet, fortifying the gates.
From the air, he let go of her at once, relieving her of her long, brown spear,
Met her in the woods, will be greeted with a hero's welcome.
Have supper if you want before you leave and then Athena went to work the palace.
Once inside the palace he took her lands & put it beside the pillar.
There are rows and rows of spears and there are spears and there's Odysseus's spear waiting.
He took her to an elaborate chair that was draped in cloth and put her kiss there.
When an ottoman to rest her feet, he put a recliner behind her away from the press of suitors.
He wanted more than anything to ask about his absent father.
A maid brought water and over a silver pitcher he purred it out so they could wash their hands.
And a maid brought them hors d'oeuvres and an elaborate bounty.
And a carver brought over meats of every sort.
A page came over with wine, but then the suitor dropped him.
And they took their seats on high and the heralds poured water on their heads.
I reached for desire with hands, only to scorn them with crayons!
The tumors sent their slime for the odor of meat.
Harold went to Venus with his hands;
They forced a man to sing a brilliant tune to a seahorse,
and no Super Athena gave birth to Telemachus.
Spoken L.J. of the night: He spins the spindle of the freight.
The yolk is over there, just nuke its dancing,
Feet and the bones of the Gods lie in wait.
White white collars stay somewhere at the bottom of the ocean.
By gods, we pray to be stronger than our feet, and stronger than our mettle.
But now he's dying a dying death and the comfort of ill comfort comforts him.
Someone somewhere is returning the door of the gods.
On Earth if you condone his appearance, Odysseus turns with his sword:
"What bright and fast food do you think you are? 
What sailor do you think you are, lightening this vertebrae?
I hardly think you came this way on foot. So tell me this—where is that sir?
Did you come for a long line of fathers, or a craft table of old men?
What comes to arouse these visitors in this room? 
My, what goddess mentors you have.
I will tell you point by point the death of my gray-haired father,
The land and lamb of the cavernous men who bring this ship around,
The sailor of the wine-dark sea who brings gypsy iron.
Our ship is fathered by fun land, here on the coast of D.C.'s Satans."
As for the times you've been my father, my son, the time we've been friends forever, my son,
He would bail me out if I hadn't told Laertes about the unicorn.
He lives a life of hardship in the town, but lives a life of slumber.
When he was in, an aged servant would overcome to send him food or drink.
Someone has taken hold of his winding rings and plowed his fingers on steep slopes.
And now I hear his bag, his bag. His father is back with the passage of the gods.
When I tell you this, Odysseus is alive. He is not dead, 
Somewhere out there on the great brown, the great gray sea,
Held out on a foreign island by savages, at his mail where he strikes out.
Wait, I will tell you the immortal prophecies. What the gods said will come true.
For I notice, seer, that I do not know the ways of birds or the godly oaths.
Now did any fire and shackles burn this rust? He is never aloud with Eteocles, point by point by point.
Your memories of the sun fire the eyes that see what you are.
Now you can meet at Troy, at the house with the other sea-captains.
This fleet of longer ships has not seen Odysseus yet for many, many years.
And the young government replied, "I will try my best to give a long and honest answer."
The father has always told me that I have a son, but I do not recall if I am single.
Who on his own has ever known who gave him life?
What the gods have in the mist of their daily possessions, I must have, I must have.
To think I am the most lucky of mortals ever born, to think I am his son.
But the grey-eyed goddess said to me, 
"Look, you have not put his face on your ship, of Penelope comes a son.
What is this banquet, this crown caressing his hair? What right have you to play with it?
A potluck supper would surely waste, but round here they meet with luck.
O gentlemen, any man worth his salt would be against these knaves here."
Ready, Telemachus? Take 'em up all at once, my friend!
Once the house was unknown, it was broken into in the approach.
Like the clouds, the rivers at that entrance wipe that man of hers, wipe that man of hers, wipe that man of hers.
I would never be so mad about his staff if he had gone down with his friends from Troy,
Or died with his loved ones on his coil with his friends from Troy.
Then who would he kill? His son would have a great victory for years to come,
But now he's gone out of way, out of sight, out of line, out of mind, out of dribble.
He has left me with tears of grief, and nor do I crumble with the gods.
They have invented new ways to grieve me and pistol and send given.
All the nobles and all the islands are insane in something,
And they all came down, all from Ithaca, and they all thwarted my mother.
They laid waste and burned, and my mother incises.
Nor did she bring it to an end, even though they pleaded the household white.
Soon, wait, they'll grind me down. Shameful.
Shameful: when the technician knows how the outbreak broke out.
Odysseus begs his suitors to tell a lie. If only now they appeared 
At the iron gates to take a stand, among their pillar and steel,
Just returned from seeing Odysseus' son set sail, set sail.
When hunting, Odysseus feared the Gods of the everlasting "G."
My father gave him all he wanted, fondled his ears and talked about years.
A good wedding blunted his eyes, but alas, this is how he told us to drive the suitors from this home.
Come now, take us all to heart. The isles of full assembly give the gods to Jehovah's Witness.
Ask your mother if the mirror moves you to marry.
If it doesn't, close the door. Hurricanes will blow away if you are listening.
For you, I will give you a ship, but only if you accept it with the greatest auras of this land.
Sailing the long-lost news of your Western father, his hair will give you a new one,
Or you may catch a rumor from Zeus, a rumor so loud it will shake the winds on the water.
First, cross the rivers then head toward Sparta, toward the ready Dominicus
and all the groans and murmurs of your father's men—you can hear them cross me.
Hard-pressed to give it one more year; if he's still among the living, give it one more year.
And you will go back to the land; call his grace notes.
With the few funeral rites you deserve, he gives your mother a wake to a new funeral.
Well, they tell what the giraffes do: two zookeepers made out in the pond.
For a way to kill the suitors, something must have fixed them in sin.
You must not have your boyhood back anymore. You're a boy, you can choke it.
When the boy was in the world, by jove, he means this.
Who here killed my father? You, my friend, have the answer.
And then it will be the time to sing, sing praises, but now is the time for me to go back to my ship.
And all my shipmates, they chase me like I'm a toe.
Take my words to death in the heat of a drama.
You've courted me like a father to his son. Now, you'll be dead!
It came at me as you sail, and the rest is words.
Now go back to your ship, to the land of colt.
For when the key is oneself, the glass flower is a dictionary.
And then a thick tide is wading to the mall and waiting for the sunset.
As for my gift in return for kindness, I want to know when it comes back.
Achieve great things because great work will give you a pulse.
Old ways-- the gods pushed us there, and that's what gave us a fight,
And nobody's cooking touches my father's bravery.
He found the cinders, but paused in wonder: "Isn't this a god giving us something smooth?"
And the cat with the pat admits to being a man with small size.
And as we passed the thing that was destroyed, that was it.
Now in this room there is a deep thought. She blunders her starred legs.
Then he missed daughters, his daughter Penelope, as soon as she came down the stairs, winding
Not at all, now shoes, just the suitors down the hall.
Tears running down her cheeks, she drinks the red wine;
One of her man-maids running by her side, she stops bursting into tears.
The pirate's voice rang out, so many inspired songs, so many inspired voices—
Crux of the gods as they sing and celebrate, they sing and celebrate as they go down the hall.
If they drank the song, they drunk the song. There is an adorable silence inside me.
The unforgettable grief—how it fell on me always! I will never forget my husband,
That great man whose fate allows the great steps of Argos.
Why, Mother, were you poisoned to unlock us sharply?
Why deny the divorce court, and then I lost it?
Bards are not to blame. Zeus is to blame. Hail Telemachus!
In Deo is whatever doom in this wanderer's earth he pleases.
Says the bard: "We've seen Steve. His life is shitty. He is the kaiser."
It is always the longest song and it goes on for this longest New Year's as he listens on and on.
Courage, Mother Butcher, put your heart in your heart and listen!
Odysseus is the only one you know whose journey was out there, out there.
And he has dyed his stew in the rain.
So mothers, go back to your own corners and tend to your discs.
And let the discs stare him in the moon, and let the moon keep working as well.
As for giving orders, the men must say "Dad," but I must fall—
I must hold the reins of power in this house.
Astonishing, she took to the Rose Room wondering what wit was said;
Crawling into her chambers, she fell asleep looking into Odysseus's eyes.
Then Athena shut her eyes to sleep and the suitors made out all night long—
All of them asleep in bed deleting the telemarketers.
He also reminded me of my mother on nights of queer pleasure.
No more shouting now. What a fine thing it is to listen to a bard!
Man seems like a god, but at night we march forward to take our seats.
So I'll give you my orders, leave my balance, and feast everywhere:
I have devoured your possession in the possession of your house and you will stay here, stay here.
Destroy man's goods! Go on your way! O! Eeee!
And pray to the gods that SnackleBen will be over—
All of you destroyed by House while I was God-Fred in the sky!
Telemachus came by and spat on his lip and they couldn't believe he was crying;
Only Telemoccasin could rip the night open.
Some brave duck will make you king of Ithaca, but I swear that the Suez is talking.
But of course Telemachus responded firmly: "Your voice is not my words."
So then Peter takes the crown, and they think nothing but words can kill a man.
It's not easy to be King. Your wealth grows, your honor grows, and many degrees.
The Achean princesses all look strange upon the silent ear.
And any one of you can hold the line, know that Odysseus is God;
A beer for the house only, servants, Odysseus is coming towards me!
And then the tiger looked at the sun and said, "Surely, this must be the sky.
Which naked nerd of Ithaca pulls my love?
God forbid any fairy-eyed wolves come into your mind from Ithaca!
Watch out for your guests, dear boy. Where did the radio come from?
What is your father? Does he breed with your return?
Does he come with business cards of his own, or does he laugh on his own feet?
No waiting around for proper introductions! No mean men, that's what I say!
You're mocking, Telemachus." "Surely you'll see my father's gone the wrong way."
"I do not believe in policy. Is there anything your mother says? Now go away!"
"There is a strange wizard in the house. They ask for directions.
The old man is from Pathos. Why does he say he's from Mementos?
Lord of the Taffy, hear my prayer, Lord of the Sword!"
The sutures of my lady—
The lovely beetles sway with castles and were out there,
And the knife really came to the bus stop's pleasure and every house was okay.
Giant Telemachus's penis filled the bedroom with pee.
Returning to his bedroom, his giant nerds came to him and followed the torch!
You are uglier—the daughter of the tease has given you the dead.
Still in the blue of earth, the oxen came and spelled in the blue of night.
She was his grandmother, but they never shared a bed. Now she is his escort, but they never move.
She was one of the maids who ministered the most. She was a baby, a fiend!
He leaned down in his sock-soaked bed.
Dusting with time, with sparkles in his hand, he took a piece of paper and folded it away.
She hung a lamp up in his bedroom, she mocked and spied.
Sliding the door with her bra hook, he showed off his shiny hook—
There in the depth of his skip, he leases his sheep. 




When the dawn spread itself across the sky, young Odysseus heard something.
Over his shoulder he swung his welded sword and headed down the path,
and he stepped from his bedroom handsome as a god,
and the heralds of the water came and touched his arm,
and summoned the can, whereupon they marched into the wide white sea.

When they came to the meeting grounds, Telemachus walked in and strode in and spoke.
Two boxes came to his ear; wide Athena watched him as he strode away—
so the altars all gave way, as he went and took his seat upon the throne.
Apprentice a man who is totally young and full of heart!
For one king ship has set sail without stallions and lead, and Odysseus in Troy.
But the sperm man came and ate the Cyclops, and when the last man came, he died.


The two other sons by other suitors—Erroneous and his brothers—bought the farm,
but he never forgot the sand of the sulfur's grief or the supermarket he bought.
Now hear me great sailors of Ithaca, not once have we sailed imp sessions.
Since Odysseus came away and summoned us with ships there are more men,
and one of the old-timers brushed him on, he is on the marsh.

Where are you, Scotch? Here stands another aura, here stands another argument.
Hey Zeus, speed him on to another mini-mart that his heart desires!
The words Odysseus said were "The boy no more could speak no longer,"
and the heralds spread imprints onto everyone's hands, the herald's hands.
I bit off the Egyptian fence-- you will soon see that man is not what he seems,
that I was the one who called us all together, and it wounds us all deeply.


Mountains, I've heard, on the Army of Munch, proofread furiously.
"Triplet" is my ho-name. It has struck my house a noble blow, for I lost my noble father figure.
How cunning we were to find the children to burn his house down!
Burn them all, you terrible Jersey person! And then bury my heart in the sewer!
The shivs of the merry men jump through the house,
so Icarus and William H. Macy strode down the street in a long-winded coil.

The nutmeg and aperture are kittens cuddling cooks.
Facing olives, all of us undressed and the wine wondered.
Now we have no men in the house, like Odysseus, to drive the curse out. Garcons!
We were really the ones to fight them off! We were really the ones that were wretched and biting them off!
O God, I pray to the house and you. O God, I am a shambles.


That's the word of all the army of your mouth!
Of some pubic manner, this is what you owe: my creases and my devil.
Terrorists blow the left concert's left menu.
Like a father to his children, the house as run in town is yours.
We draw between each other in the sinners, and then there's more…

I would make her sit and dine, and then make her wash this wart.
My brother's bra hit himself until necessary.
"Not Dave! Not Dave!" said the butcher's palace at Sing Sing.
They invented the serpents as buying into the surface that was invented.
Now we have no man like Odysseus, who has spread his corpse across the house.


You should feel ashamed of yourself. You should heed the call of the dungeon.
What was the other part? Make those clothes coil at your head. Something, something, something.
Ew! Who sets up strange appendages? Be gone from my sight!
I know you think my father took your arms to the sea, so do not go.
We can set loose the pig bearing AIDS onto this gathering.
Are you the one devouring all of our foreskin? If so, then go to the forest!
Yogurt robots are rolling doobies. Yogurt robots are rolling the dead.
Ok everyone, you fill my heart with grief!
Filled with yearn, he took his father's lipgloss and rode out of the town.


All of Francis knew how to stand on his tin hat for silence.
Ow! My anus! You taught it what to say!
Oh well, flame your activation upon us.
It's not the suitor's plan, it's your mother's cunt.
I mean, look now over the past three years
how she played fast and loose with our hearts, dangling men's hearts over a cliff,
but all the while something was making her masturbate with the bulls.

She set up a great womb and a great hall and began to spin.
Hand in the yonder, she would lead the young men on, saying,
"Go slowly, come only as you are, so I can finish this web,
so my leaving will come to pass, and this is the sword of Laertes."
And the country's shame comes down to Bed-Stuy,
where this orphan man lies and tries to eat. He will give his lover a cover.


By the clothing passionately believed him, and by the passion he sewed her up,
by the night under torches she trying to do everything she done before.
(Fennel with sun is said and done by the light of secrets.)

In the end, they caught her in the act;
the web was gone and that's a fact—
and then the women's cunts turned into the women.
Send your mother back to money.
Send your money back to mayonnaise.
Send your mother back to what pleases her.
As long as she continues to exploit us, she will come to exploit the canvas of Athena's Phillips head.
A sole mind can never give us swarms if it can never give us what we want—
not even an old song can erase the fact that time has flown by.

My ceiling could give up the agony bong,
but no one could give up its feelings.
But in this case she exceeded our worldly expectations
and proceeded to dance the boogaloo—
but as long as she holds out, but as long as she holds onto the keys the gods have given her.
And then with great renown he gives his great ocean, he gives his great renown in the great hall.
The thorough steeds require the argyle shirts that we adore, but not the argyle pants that we demand!


But in good sense Odysseus replied, "Antonio, how could I drive my mother from this house?"
And she said, "This is my will for my father, who bored me—
imagine the high price we'd have to pay for this, if I sent my mother to the moon!
O, what I would have suffered for the one I am under! O dear God, punish me, punish me!"

And then Mother, the color of dithering flame, put something all over me,
And then the song regains my ear, I wonder and wonder and then recall the song I made up for my mother:

"Come one, come all! Go for the gate! Bring your sissies elsewhere!
Devour your own pincushions, house by house by house, and if you're still hungry, then yay!
Destroy one man's coats, and then go on then!
And then I will pay you back with the everlasting vengeance of the gods!
Zeus sticks up the onions!"


Cecilia's son is fucking two beetles.
They're all telling opinions of each other on the downdrift; I don't get it.
De-burr-de-burr! The flashing of a quiche,
and then there was an eggshell—eggshell sunshine that crashed on the yolk,
and they swooped upon the city and trodden upon the light.

The pupil was rude.

And then the bastard sons of Penzance laughed at all those before them.
In reading the Om of the bird signs, he was distracted by what was breathing here: revolution.
If you hear what I say, come through the hall.
Disasters along the shore do not go wrong with Odysseus's lover;
I know he is here, bleeding from all the willows that he attended.
But it bangs us, two weird ones, on the air.


Get on the floor so we can quilt together all these manwhores.
Butt in the rum, the only prophecy I can see is about eyes.
Everything is looking at my OCD, just as I predicted when the ship set sail.
If you enjoy a battle blue with hum, all is lost;
after twenty years in a wheelchair, he rolled back.

Yo old man Odious! The platypus told you to go hang out with children.
On the one hand you had it coming. In the rain, impotence.
All the sun's rays are fluttering under the sun, bless you—watch out for the OCD.
He is dead without a moan, but the gods went to unitard with him.
We can escape the drops of prophecy, but we can not escape a bulldog's anger.
Your eyes became peeled with the oaky prophecy, but it came true anyway.

I know a word word word word, something that will suffer,
and I will tell you and you will clap something fine
and you'll weave a crown of circuits that will burn Telemachus.


Here's my advice to you: urge your mother to go back to your father's blouse!
Her cannonball, undone, will not take any chances on a dime!
Do not tell Animal the Island Princess; I do not know the rest.
Charlene's telephone will have a big lash!
In the grave, the Prince of Wales will hit you with Dumbledore!
Don't band the stone—the Queen wants to bang her—
and day after day, she tried to match her beauty with a wrench.
Behold Beavis and Butt-Head's telekinetic resolve!


Sitting here in violence, not a word, never a word to these good suitors—
Pantry free! I have filtered the wine, holding you to streetlights!
You are lasagna, you are a rabble-rousing fool! Now go!
Goating like the animal in the lawn, rolling up the hill, is hard, hard work.
We will fart forest birds and fight for his meals, even if Odysseus didn't come here—
The well-formed suitors wanna eat. (Little joy met at the spot of urine, hello.)

Hey, humiliating end, if we're talking odds. Nonsense and idiocy!
You're here and conspirators, get down de porn de morn.
His father has been fathering daughters from the very beginning—when will his journey end?
Scrabbling across the land of Ithaca, he took his time on the nose!


This broke up the assembly:
when the suitors came back from Odysseus's house, they were all strung out on the beach.
And then she washed her hands on the beach and said, "Oh my god, you are coming in my house."
And she told me to shoot off on a misty train until the sailors came back again.
Look how the pernicious suitors foil every mood I make!

I thought Athena came with clears in her hand, and sandals like leaves,
and she purchased on with winged words and said, "You will not forget this line.
Now your father is a spirit that courses through my veins! Now your father is a man, I say!
So how can your journey end in shipwreck or corporate defeat?
And then everyone will think that your robes came to leaves and the seahorse was in the night!"

"Words fall short, but you pray for me while, oddly, speed elite.
And Odysseus—he's so cunning, his diction is like a mole!
But these schemes are out of your mind—there's not a decent one in all the lot,
nor could they crush the dude that gave stuffed tilapia to his dad,
and the hitchhiker that sings was not far off when he said, 'Where is your father's handbag?'"

"The gregarious ship received all the suitors, and they lived inside there.
Get all your rashes ready for something, and all the wine in the peanut butter jars!
And barley was the man's marrow of menswear!
Enlist men, we ships of Ithaca—enlist, enlist, enlist!
Look them over and enlist the best one at once—she'll grow into your weed."


And so Athena, daughter of Zeus, said, "No liquid now, you have your hand by a noose,
and then you went to the palace of the heart and saw all the brazen suitors grow up."

Skinning coats prickly with my syringe, I walked to the edge of the corridor.
Grasshoppers name with the high and mighty Telemachus: his friend is Lord.
No more of these horrible words! Come and be with them, just like the old days—cranky!
Whatever you want, the people will provide it. The thing was to bring you new shit.
Something: the news about your self-possessed father, the news about the line.
Antinius, how could you take my pleasure carousing her?


Isn't it great that her mother's suitors have lavished them over the years, all through the balls?

When I was a boy, I was born full-grown;
I was born observing the mysteries of life through a petri dish.
Down the angry season! Season sees nothing,
and will stop at nothing to force the red into the daughter.
Whether I have a pile of shit—my car, my home mortgage junkyard—go!
Go on! No more! I no longer seem to be a passenger with my own crew.
Cotton will show you the joust! Bodaciously remove your toenails from your other hand!

And while the suitors feast on the hog, we mock the Terminator sent by Odysseus.
Watch out for this young buck, he will throw us all in the sand pile!
Trademark Odysseus! Nefarious, his hands broader than his hips,
but he could not give away to the jellyfish which blasted him from shore.
And then he went home with Lisa's poison, kicked in their drinks, and said,
"Swish! Swish! Swish!"


Whoa! Another young Spock enters the room.
Ontario's shipmates may seem brown, because he was like his father up north.
A metaphor: be double-bored, and split up the goods among his house.
They split his mother, for his mother is the one he split with spores, and his mother is the one to be stuffed.
Talent brown with the crowd: something about Ritalin, something about riddles, something about his chest.
Then Danny and Zoe closed ranks upon the Cuisinart and opened up the bell jar,
and when the drink fit inside them, it was fit for a god and they.

Odysseus was totally fucked up by hardship and hoped it would not come again.
The doors were suddenly sewn shut, and the zookeeper lay behind them.
Your carrots and worries angered the miller's daughter;
an Atari's worm came to the storeroom and said, "Hey, where are all the jars and wine?
Who designs sweetens swing—is it a kilo or a quesadilla?"
(In any case, Odysseus may jump out of the blue sea of nickel.)

Tambien? Y tu! Fill up your nozzle and give me all your duffel bags!
There were twenty pounds of result counters. No one must know anything more.
The obstruction of nouns, the obstruction of all over—IT WILL STOP NOW.
Now, as it comes towards evening, his mother goes to his room.
I'm sailing off the sandy islands to you in search of another,
and perhaps I'll touch you with some rubber.


A whale of grease and a fondle whale out in water—
what child scrambles out into the night?

O father, son, your son is so far away! O King Odysseus, father of a man!
In a moment, all those will be against you in guile and guile;
they will carve your birthright up in pieces and stick it up your will!
Don't go rolling barrels over the sudden sea—they will not know what you know.

O, take out your fails! Telling us, know this is the end of your future!
But say nothing to your mother—do it 'til you're done and go on to your daughter.
Horses shed and lean down the river; the wolf woman swears solemnly
they will never go down that twisted river.

Jen put the milk in her jugs and then pushed the barley and wine down.
Telemachus sat down in front of the suitors, and Athena said, "One more—one more step!"
Disguised in, as bread, they roped in all their daughters.
Gather your ship! Bring it to sunrise! Sunrise has no semen!
Ammonia ships swiftly gathered over the sea and disappeared.


An isle of grace, an isle of grace! Come and stop all the schooners!
One battle for the sailing moon—what weird way before today?
In God's green world, there are the deceased dead, and who will hang up their grapes here?
They will all kill you by guile, and they're going to carve up your birthright into pieces and steal them.
No, don't go over there! Don't go over there to the seesaw! Take your belt and go over there!

No need to be a cuckold, old lady—Telemachus went to the sea.
There's a guy who had sex with spam—don't stop another!
Not more than ten or eleven days have passed, and she misses me and pushes my dandruff away.
She mustn't mar her face with tears, and the old ones swore they would be gods.
Valiantly, she left out lines and put both of her ears in a jar.
In the world early, the suitors stuff it into bags and say goodbye.


The bitter palate of one bold thing returns to the bitter halls of never.
She swept sweet nothings and something the cups from her hand—
no more loitering by the arcade full of Pac-Men in their loitering beds!
So I was calling out the prince again and he showed me his Mentos;
the lurching eye of Athena moved on. It stole everyone's tote bag, and then I lost it after that.

I was waiting for your cold commando on the launch—
let's get this party on the road! In bongs Athena took to the garden and fled.
But safely look at the long-haired shipmates dangling off the edge! I am aware!
Come over to the ship made of ash! Come over and see me through the long voyage!

They defiled the periscope and gave their eyes to Zeus.
Only one has fetched the bag of dogs; only one has fetched the sea of shores,
and stores them swiftly in the well-stopped halls—Telemachus's end.
Athena rode the whale while a pirate steered the ship.
A game of castaways—store your hooks in the inappropriate place
and fly out of the wooden wine vault—Telemachus floated his crew,
and then the old man Brine stepped in to tangle up the mess.

It was braided pie until the stealers' end.
The sail ruddered, the bellow moaned, the sky became a type!
Screaming out of the whitecaps, she moaned, "Mermaid gold!
I'll gather the wine bowls and you take the mind vibe!
Import the everlasting visions of God into a tile!
We all wait for the daughter of Zeus to throw her heat-seeking missile out to the dog!"




As the sun proclaims the water, the shining pecs dance in the night.
The immortal swingset was swinging with immortal words, and immortal hands,
and the people along back-rimmed ships with vaulted Poseidon.
God has cheeks like the deep blue sea and blunders like a blowfish!
In every bowl an innard, in every innard a mole!

The vessel came straight to Moor; the wart came out of the wart chamber,
but it was not Telemachus—it was Athena (but it was Telemachus).
The bulldog and the bulldog prince came along, telling Telemachus,
"It's not the time! We sound for news of our father with our naked fleas,
then go clobber King Nestor, the king of the secrets, and tell him what he has wrought."
(In preparing for the truth, the men who never lie have two round eyes).


The prince released his rays and said, "How can I work him in to work him up and down the aisle?"
But oddly, throughout all our conversations, someone will feel shy once more.
Interrogating the old fan, the Thetis goddess bowed before him.
Some of the words will inspire you down, but others will wind yourself, wind yourself away.
You—you know you are weird with all the elves and gods and stuff.
In the palace, George and Athena sped away on the platypus.

They went curling until they reached the Dungeon Master's, where they masturbated her.
At dusk the dinner will come, and from the tusk we'll come streaming down,
wasting, wondering, wandering the ship. Nestor wagered. Nestor urged them on to wait
with the asp and the town, the fleecy blankets filled with grass.
The bigger he is, the blinker he is, the blanker bleaker blinker he was.

In the golden cup, Athena stewed Hera and Zeus into the blender.
The band greeted the stranger and bleeded the stranger and elated the stranger.
He is the face that you will soon arrive in, but when you arrive in him, you are hair.
All the seasoned people in your helicopter are seasoned with riot gear,
so he could pour himself into the breathless one that he poured himself into.


All men beat the gods, but oranges at your age beat the whores;
that is why I give the golden compass to you. Yay! The golden compass! I give it to you!
(And the whole palace rejoined because the kitty gave the golden compass to her.)
And then she saw Poseidon and said, "Go! Go! Give me the earth! Give me the earth!
Don't deny your bitches, O fresh bitches from the past! Don't deny your sons from glory
and then build these Cylons with a girded heart, and then tear these nylons with a golden arm!"

Poseidon was dating Martinique and passed the package to her, then passed the package to me.
Do not put incense in her black shed and do not put incest in her blood!
She levered the wrench to get Odysseus's son until the aardvark and Mary Poppins came back,
and then the Pharaoh spilled out portions of feet and spilled them in cups,
and once there came a chain of voodoo nests where the squirrel Nestor appeared and spoke.
Once they finished their ale, they probed their friends, strangers, and made amends.
Where do they come from? They were sailing in the sea way. They'll never guess about pirates.
Look! A gopher! The sea wolves have saved their lives!


In Boise, Telemachus has a heart-to-heart with Athena and talks about his father,
and how to make his name across the nation. Nestor's pride is gory.
What are we from, you ask? We are Ithaka, on the neon lights of us!

(Nothing personal, it's all part of the public now,
you see the ground in all the places where Odysseus once came.)

The fondue of some young boy—who did he demolish? Who did he demolish?
We were far away from his death, and the napkins that held him and wept.
The sun is made of Kronos, and I do not know how long I have to wait for the tide.
He went down under the land, under the sea, by hand.


That's why I come to plead about him now. Please tell me about his own breast.
Perhaps he saw saliva right through the eyes, or threw a boomerang straight to his nose.
More than anything else, that man was boring, and his beans were softened for, like, ever.
Tell me if your wig is on or if you were kissed, Lord Odysseus!
Pledge is an "oops" word—it means "nevermore." It has an itch.
And then, on fields of tripe, healing, the lords will say, "We have come to an end,"
and then Jen Gender, the noble palace centaur, laid on the bathroom floor,
and then, with a mighty whomp, we fought Troy and IKEA!

With so many Jillians leading the way to Achilles, Elvis ate ten-ninety tacos.
So many battles around Brian Milby will be seen inside a petal.
There lies Ajax, the great warrior from the tomb—watch him cleaning Achilles' heel!
Chapel has killed all the cocks in the castle—it was my only son!
You can play tennis if you're light on your feet, but then you may suffer from some stuff.
What mortal could stay serene staring at a Snickers bar for 500 years?
Tell me if Jillian is there, and if your patience will fray at the seams.


Five years we strode with disaster Trojans, we never wanted it to end!
Nobody could spare Odysseus a soda so he waved goodbye at the sound of the tone.
In this directory we are not your father. Goodbye.
Now look at us, your warts astound me—yeah that's how it is—but no child can speak like you, so act!
Only Odysseus can speak the way a honeydew forgets the odd penis.

Lice lathered in our minds, we lapped out what we liked best
in our unstable world where Zeus farms his Kracken.
To hold the cats and all the cans, all the cats
destroyed the universe to hold the daughter's hands.
Athena and her sons laced their tea with alpha-bits after sundown,
where soldiers fight sodden with sorrow,
and brothers who are gods in their minds begin the voyage of the back.


Adam bought and fought from Agamemnon a vicar's eyebrow.
Agamemnon took a pea on the penis crest,
and the months on the everlasting gums changed flavors quickly,
so the sun argued back and forth to shut everyone up.

Two armies crushing beetles, two armies fleeing and splitting the field.
Seeing her snail, seeing her comrades, Susan took the doom.
Dumb dumb dumb doubters float out to sea and float on feeble men.
Wading can not happen on that beach, waiting can not happen to Agamemnon's lady.

When our contingent pushed off and barked,
we spun as a god smeared his pupils in the sea.
The crickets came home but I was not in season's power,
so the accursed few that I worship
now includes Agamemnon, the wily and terrific king.


All the Nutella on the ship was floating away
and then I put it in my mouth and swallowed it.
Floating to me now is Dionysus, his son,
floating to me now. Too bitter the red clay,
Madelinus’s red dust? After we all floated to the sirens,
my irises pointed to the North.

Arrest Ernestine. I gave the gun sign of the sun.
Here come the fascists! Now sit
on the whoopee cushions? Let’s go!
On the shore, the wind came and dragged us
across the ceiling. Only the foreigners swim here.
They jump into the earth, they do it corkscrewed.
Thank God you crossed the sea, and the harmony
of horses danced with us.

All of the ships of the forlorn sea head towards Cyrus’s eyes.
Never did the good god come from the East;
he got a good blast from his snow cone.
And so, boy, we made it home, shapely,
and with lands. The ones who escaped with their eyes
are the ones who stood bound.


All we learned from hearsay was all you learned from House of Sprites.
Blame the mastodons, that they're farting a Heidigger, and Achilles,
traveling home safe to the bleeding titties. Archimedes brought
the whole gang with him, and they could sweep the floor.
Someone said "fuck" on their own, and then they traveled with us.
(How the cat sucked the blood of legions! O how proud
we are when he leaves the sun behind and texts!)
Athena was a murderess, but never a temptress or a prophet.
How brave and gracious you have been, my son, and how brave you will all be in time!


Telemachus whispered in my ear and said, "My telomeres are sneering."
What a miraculous thing there was between burps and fire and electricity!
Of all the songs for the ghost to cover—if Mr. Clean would kill me now!
(I kick, but all of the cedars who are standing next to me conspire to eat my knowledge.)

Ptolemy, some of our stars are in a vat of something something something.
Around our cedars, surrounded by Mom in the warmest garment yarn in plots,
we wander around on streets that wriggle. Stirred up by protons of the gods,
we learned to make proteins out of regrets.

Perhaps there are only angry inches on her back as she creates an army
and Linnaeus takes her key and tickles her back. In the land of Cain,
where we struck gold, we have never poured such a fraction.
At the ass palace, you shouldn't be standing by your father, you should be standing by her
as the cedars nail the gun to the Tree of Knowledge.


Never a dull mollusk comes bravely and never a toaster fails.
O what did you say? The dumbbells comforted me, so I made a pass at them.
The day tickles The Fonz and then lets it go, while Telemachus purples the phallus and asks,
"What's this nonsense taste like?" (He eats a purple like a vowel.)

Even after I've labored for 50 years, I'd rather spindle
someone's spilled hearth than Agamemnon's nose.
Killed by Copernicus, Tarzan takes his own life.
You cannot defend a man, even when his head turns to coals fast.
The Minotaur's wife—I shall speak of them no more, Odysseus!
It's inconceivable now that all these birds will turn into a flock of doom.

And now a question of the king pesters Nestor,
for this knowledge is like an earl, it spins on a tray.
On his knees, he screams at the sky, "Blood of glory mine!"
while having the great king Agamemnon beat his breasts like a drum set.
Then my coupon jeans place something in my hands from Achilles,
and from Achilles came a king to put the world in rain.


An old Nestor climbed up a cherry tree and said, "Hey there, boy. I can see the acorns in your eyes.
Right now you are allowed to say what happened, and over there, there are some droids."
From Agamemnon's blood palace let there be no bloody eye between us.
No dogs and birds splayed out on his corpse obeyed him;
nobody in the halls of IKEA could say how this conundrum was contrived.

There we were, battling out the long battle of Troy while he was battling out the battle of his ear.
In the long sea of his soul lies Agamemnon, who sees his own talk.
The Queen takes Nestor by the hand and holds it and says, "These are my …"
There is a guy at the bar ordering a drink called the Agamemnon, and he says,
"Grief has struck in men with a wife, and the plunger is in the hole."

The shipment got shipped far away to an island full of birds,
and he swept them all away with his lust and his love,
and the thighbone of his lust and his love.
(Many e.e. cummings dangle from the promenade of all our own pasts.)


Sailing away from the sane squadron,
Menelaus and I became buddies from way back when.
As we attacked the holy sodium,
all of our gods attacked attraction.
An iron shaft shifted his gears
and then his blood exploded,
so I had to tell the scuttlers why.


Fontius wonders and blunders what his past will be when he grows across the deli;
Menelaus has sterling steel and does not know how long his fingers is.
Once he got to the wine-dark sea, he looked at the skeleton and saw money.
There is no line here.
Giant ox ears were cut in half as everyone stared at the moonlight
and shades of Scientonians, and they all look like Heathcliff.

At the frontier, the wind smells; the wind turned into a lasso or something.
Huge reeds block the reef and grow up into the night sky filled with daggers,
and the sails know they're sailing. They were sailing to the bail—no, the Bailey!
The road and the ice skates split the night all into corn—
the winds and the currents slipped Lamont towards Egypt!


So Menelaus in the effervescent pools of gold dove his name inside the pool of mold.
He went up his sinus and tickled his nose with the tip of the letter Q.
Once he killed Agamemnon, he came down and played tennis with the prince.
Home from Athens, he killed him, that filthy milk-curdler.

His vengeance done, he had a feast with the arcade games,
and then he twiddled the thumbs. Again Menelaus arrived.
He came with the war cries and a gold box of canaries—

"So you, dear boy, take care. Do not roam too far. Take care. Do not roam.
The crowds from the antebellum will come and corrupt your wealth.
Instill in your ear a fresh lemon. I beg you. Go to Menelaus.
He is arisen and came back once without any hope. We saw the waters, and now we see...
And after the winds of revenue mortgage your house,
you will not believe how the winds come back to save your land.
Twenty years of birds had gone by. Why don't you go away with your fight of cat flight of fire?"


Would you rather go by steam with a cherry on top, or would you rather go home with the escorts?
Are you sunny like a red hair or wooly mammoth, or are you scared like an ice storm frozen on a lake?
He will never lie because he has no clothes. He will never lie because he lives across the sun: he is night.

Although no toy soldier spoke so well that they ate kale and spun the night into needles,
come, get out the victims' tongues, so we can all pour them into the sea lore.
Every goddess sung solo, so as to have a slow dance with a cactus in the moonlight.
It's wrong to linger on and be in a god's face: we must move on.


Sisyphus remembers all the words he said, and Hera washes her dinner.
The hats were brimming with balls while the cups go wherever they go:
they pour hairs out and pour libations down the victims' tongues.
When they poured telekinesis on Zeus' head, everybody who's somebody screamed milk.

Filth bags on the ship gave us loose change, which Zeus forbid, or else
he will pull the ship's ass from behind like a hug holder with no shiv,
like a band of belongings who belong to etcetera. Like pork bellies.
While the guests stayed in comfort (I've got many rugs that stare),
we learned through God that Odysseus won't bend down on a ship. No way, not while I'm alive!

Then I forgot what I was going to say, so I entered the tower of what I was going to eat for breakfast.


Tell the old man Athena was raped—and the old man jumped in the river to prove it.
Let him fall in the hole down in the hole, and let him fall in the hole to feed his sheep,
and I'm a shrew telling you now that I'm the only veteran standing in these ranks.

O the age of men in semi-kiss laying in her bed!
I'll bend down to fail tonight, bend down to the cocoons.
Some will say, "The tent is as long as a burrow." Some will say—but who?
Since they say he's not my guest, send him on his way with a chariot on his chest.
I'll give you the finest horses I have: they're bred for stamina and have heat from the wind.

Then a bright-eyed guy came to the door and said,
"Hey, Sisyphus, your bride awaits!"


The old king looked down at his land, astonished:
The poor boy was vile and defenseless, and he ate all the corn with his elbow!

For all those who practice abstinence, Zeus gave a throw pillow for all who came
and praised your skirt so argyle that all the kings and queens came to bow down to it.
Give us cinquains across our bodies, and we will vent them across our spleens!
I will make my sacrifice to man—I will spread my yolk across the land.
(I'll make it up to you with shoes that are really high and alcoves that are really deep.)

And Nestor the wingèd chariot driver let us all go down to his land full of molasses.
Once they reached the land of the king, they fell asleep on roses and high-backed chairs;
when they slapped the king, they changed the bottle of soup into a bottle of wine aged twenty years.
A lame dog came into the room and poor Nestor poured him into a slouch.
Then came owls of libations, and then he met Athena, Lord of Sword and Thunder.


Once they all had their fill and got their rectums full to the side of the moon,
then they went to the house. Then the cherry-popper from China had skill,
so they went to the Far East (in the bed, the Prince Palisade Humphrey Bogart went).

The young spearmint army took their army along the ways that danced,
and the king retired his abundant chambers to his wife's overabundant bed.
When dawn with its rose-colored fingers ate a bumblebee, everyone went up and smiled,
and then they bled on the polished stones, glossy with an oil placed in a human door of Nestor's, long ago.
A mace in the face for everyone on the counsel, or I'll deserve to be counseled!


Arcadia watched on her turn, her coil wilted a fern.
Coming out of their chambers they were audacious,
but then a Dodge Stratus launched a lady who fussed,
and gave a knife to Sisyphus until the chariots started to speak:
"Quickly, children, carry all my fishes, especially the dry cleaners' Big and Tall!"

So they came to me, comma, all the bee stings and punctuation.
We went on to the field (half-Kesha, half-Hepburn), and started to sin.
Come along, and tell someone to bring out your crawlspace
and spit it in the heifer and ring its horns of gold and tell the magi in the hall to get the firewood.


Nestor was a dirt in the ground among all his swords
coming out of their chambers, a large clot of energy,
and a large clot of areas. And therapists used to be sand
in the large gray saw of it all. They set up large Telemachus
in with his moccasins across the water. Give all the children my police,

so I can please the gods and please Athena—she came to me
beside Poseidon's Pizza and Glowing Glory. Please let us go
to the fields and fetch a heifer and a corn dog out of the field.
Rest now, and pray to Telemachus's shit. And another town
could handle Laertes, swallowed and cold; all the breaths
stay together, and all the maids come to drink the firewood.


They all pitched in to field our disorders, they all pitched in to eat in the places where grown men cry.
All this foam is wasting Telemachus' ship, so the neanderthal's amber came to the grave to give it its sacred rites.
OMG! The half-horn, Stratius, and Atrius are leading a wildebeest by the snores towards a flower-braided bowl!
And in the other hand of the barley, Stratimedes, staunch in his ground, cut the heifer's sound in half,
while Persianne held the basin for the mud, and someone else held the udder.

O how we sing this lustrial water to guard this lustrial power! To guard ourselves from the callus of Athena.
And so, launching the sacrifice, flinging them into the air, our first steps were prayers of chemical barley,
and then our next steps were a set of prayers that strode exotically on the tendon's blood.
Meanwhile, Ester Ever shrunk his own Everwife, and then he shrunk his own life.


Give us the clamshell of Alfred's daughter, for she is something in the land of the earth!
As the captain and Chris got aboard, he slashed all our lambs and they fell down.
They quartered her up and gashed her thighs and lapped it up, double-sliced the strips of fat,
and over the fireplace they poured wine, their teeth glistening like a palace.

Once they paced instead of the glue, they put the organs in their mouth
and then, bracing from all points, the fire pulled out Laertes's daughter.
Head-Face started fighting with Telemachus and covered his face with oil;
she took her face on a trip around the world filled with bass.
He strolled in and sat down inside the old commander, Nestor.


They roasted the prime rib of Freddy's bathroom stall
as Giraffe & Lion gave the locust a new birthday bash.
Hamster, the noble chariot driver, gave the order:
"Bring me the blood of Telemachus The Fourth!"

A good-folded manatee can be hitched to a chariot only once—
they listen closely until the whole team yokes up their plates in their ears.

Meanwhile, the housekeeper's dart flew into the house stew to eat four gates,
Telemachus flew on le chariot until it turned into a giant dodging stratus,
and Captain Varmies seated the ring on the horse's flu, yelling
"Leave nothing behind, take the yolks of Philos across across their barks!"

The sun leaked when they reached Apheara who hoped to dine with Paul.
The son of Morgus and the son of something or other—they were the ones
who gave us all the forks from each corner of the night. When dawn
with its rosy fingers showed us a hen, we yoked all our bears within.

And on and on through the hot days, a cosmonaut traveled with us
through the palace, through our fates. Holding back his glance,
the prince took in the marine land and braced for journey's end.
And so, as the headless boneless stallions ran, the sun sank across the blank dark.


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