Thomas Lowe Taylor -- STAMMER

1
story one

Thee's not arfed
nor fed from farmers

here'a lil story -- Nated scouts
refluxed their dinner marks
then tensiled home from human

there transfixed by nutes
whom aspired within fragrances
poll-mar palgon substance abuse

therein exposed frameworks
fallen trees hosed out
the rumin of thence detoured
and made flame toward denial

in tell, no mask furthered hymnal
popes visit

I'd hammered one, arisen sportscaster
line in hand, out over the splash
his jumping finger belittles her

in the deeper normal attributes
you'd frozen in the museum
now delay no thaw this tumor
excrescences, the thaw of monuments

odd pleasures, then remote, now oft.
nor aft, her measures denote. butt off't.

nay's times are not amused but held
could be often could be often

Syntaxer notices fictive absolutes
being played out, nor heaves movies
chant and spleen, her doorway ajar
slows the motive chants their own history

but knots, the surfer's board and rheum
thay slacked and pornered spume and platz
from the slippery floor's remote humor
what's called movers on the scramble
nixed porters slid continental puds
but formerd splints then not extrudes
the foamer the former president declining
to report the scale of the scene derided, open
a heart aside, nor romant, more enhants 'em
leader to the moon's presence has no pardon
but leans to one side fingering you into
history another raster substant pludes
afar nor tern firming, er, farming, dude.

eagle scope not rescind, that at hat, her.



2
story two

they'd replented civil discurse, affirmed
recall and doubt their own shares reminded
at least to civil d.
Nix he's hero the dining car surfed out
coffee on the planet's rug, carpet. whtvr.
lammed then, the car'd pets theen'd out
excrammed the flood from parapet denounced
heeling the populate countri, it's no doubter
but the story in the hold. like boxed

new age shit
was ever whre(e --at back
the songers plied the rent, wrenching
heart upon loyalty trashed again, no emotes
permitandre nosko, the belater at shimmer
i'd hard on his dick-girl, she'd spent.
but passion, ah, laundromat's cottony air.

I say wrong or through
i say i say i do
say wrong or through


3
story

replied, baseball, cornfields
"things i never said"
a plaster thing
this he heeded (healed

the narrative scam
ah, full of expectation, remorse
half stammers of the pleated scorn
is this where you'd bent my ear, er, ear?

so, what was best left unsaid
was

and into morning seasons went their
way wav ing hermit black water suck you down
song of the child muezzin (bento) stick
nor witched-out, but a large asparagus stalk
erupted from that otherwise plain back yard.
and
where'd went became an issue, to her
the secret gardening hours no pleasure/measure
and
a what's made personal a nay
your own heart discoursed, myasthenic, bravus

how he'd wait, or wave, no matter. felled a tree.
still, the new reminder hastens out, nor heals her
domino spasm, ah, the bouncing waving term of energy of
what's replinted harps no scower dues these pleaser dunes.

it'd begun out, whatever you want.