Little Baby With Arms Out,
Stretched To The Day For Silky Night,
Terrible Trees At Its Cradle's Feet,
Agony Sucked From Perforated Dryness,
StarLight Echoing InTo A Fidgety Mobile Universe,
Pacifying The Wounded Of Its Pity And Aligning ItSelf,
Molding Its Influence With Pulled Pablum Strings,
To Theorize The Deterioration Of Succinct Interiors,
Following ItSelf To The Fenced-Off Regions,
Naturally Selecting From Motives Electric,
Tub-Thumping Sick Bricks For Humane Donations,
Opening Umbrellas InSide Its CardBoard Closet,
Engineering Its Drugs To Reverse Fertility... To InCorporate The Body Politic,
On A LifeLine And Weening For Solid State Fidelity,
Bungeeing InTo A Left Over Rite Of Passage,
Dangleing In Reflection And ReCollected Measures,
Building Its Self High... From Both Sides Of The Saddle,
Over And Under To Claim A Pedestal For Its Ass,
While It Softens Its Breaking Of Water,
Constructing New Canals... Cemented Plots Through Older Burial Mounds,
Layering The Cloth... Folding Over... And Over,
UnTil It UnTills The Soil Of Its Presence,
And It Will Milk The Glaciers For Its Fill To Drift,
Leaveing Its Fat For Archaeology To Mine.
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