((zaz)z(bo)t)

In my heel were the blood worms' child foot-fungus
feasting on the eighth leaf'd clover. Dingusing as lovers.

I could hook your nose's smile with new Gringo vestibule.
The longer the hatchback, the more latent the bagged fries.

People eat French Fries Unknowingly. Like Con. Rice.
Like the way C. Pow. looses his grip tape. Remember that Romance?

On the television backwards our eyes were like hooks.
You sinker, you stinker, begging with lines of life. I'll say. Lifelines.

Bigger than the bourgeoisie brand; more powerful than electric hearts:
the Japanese sink pump churns and curdles, coins and curfews.

But in back of or behind throat a clapping horse doES the twin shuffle.
You're cool in cancer; comes in equines as fast Djinns screaming for rape.

Two-throated and big too working in that hot sun, skin paling and pealing,
pears performing quick-shimmies under roller coaster Christ watches.

You combine your words and I'll form dough.
Can you imagine metallic pots made out of grain?

I'll serve you an uppercut the same reverse way D. C. Van D. jived
when the giblets started their breathing process. Look to sweatbags.

You outcast. You phosphoric brandywine. You sophomore.
It will be a dousing before it gets too late; before train-keeps break chains.

Before our favorite progressing Prestons swifted their espresso eyes.
Before the boom flash of a thousand Molotov bombs reach hotel cracks.

Follow me through the burning black grass since you're allergic too.
Tsunami breath will rub one out and ditch evidence to gravel.