Supper scuppers the ship of fools
Running along, sentence-wise, to natural
Linguistic longing, linguini locution, each
Paging through libraries, hunting for the
Snorquel, that elusive bricolage bagatelle
Blown sideways on the impish impermanence
The cosmos promises subjects and genres
Criminal to pause for too long at the undergrown
Cremini, that death not yet dried out
Under ex-sapling swoons