Thomas Lowe Taylor -- Lucid Snapshots

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heat more specific notes
yr eyes elarumed, frozen up
tight to the lie she lays

eyed enter center sent her
senator; plus lood skie da
whered pony up to light

ska du der na plumer musks
the repeted skein nay plue
or hear her sighing out now

this'd punk yr sheltie poon
I'd bent no spoon, nor halted
here the niner skin, pealed out

nor hinted at the outer dues
what'd been said before or
hailed from afar askance anoon.

What's the big deal, now, here
and thee a farmer in the boon,
ska nay hinter in the later hie

thee no pinter in the airier
lutes, a sharper eye than not
but seen again, here at the mix

though i'd said nothing but wait;
here her heart touches my own
and leads me into cool waters

I'm at hoon. Ner to the fathom sents
as must turn, turned at nothing out
and sin t'er but held and fern

when inside no doubt enters anywhere
but sinks deals the heater spent
as armor yielding fashion's pate

I wondered where you were, years pas
eons, lives lived, time wasted, and
where were you, waiting for me?

This is the nowhere noon. still here
and lining up liners like lingo, or
doubt, butt held and firm, years

insistent torment at famiiar hands