Chirpy Dirges
(AppreCJ8n, 0.43: Below Juvenile Stars)
 
Tillcame the day of Belly my sun, the day of my way out of the wayout way! 
The feelingafarflung in 
ding an sich the size of all yonderhood it's gone - yeahsa! Now there's 
no spectacle like telescopic blindness, 
nor ar' ma pupils hard as outerspace, as glaze of
ogleflakes on a glacial arsehole - only saw shit perfectly, 
plus the pupilabilities of aquicktristram,  
a wristy offer. Now, wheth' Sh'offers late tea 'n' biscuits, 
or a perfect goodnightwithinsinuendo of some perfect bitoftheother, 
beatific biscuit of tastebuddies
in bed, She can shake me thankful, spiritalight like sol's gulls 
cauterising dark rooks in dark yews. 
Our unfailing reachforthe other's heartfuelling shakes. 
 
Makes me think of Yourspirit, and Yourbelly mybasecamp groundworks. 
my look for earth's spirit, when best beyonders touch base 
in lookofimportant Lightblueness, how Your Looklooks. There's no chamelleable hue 
but blue but not blahhue, blinkbreaking azureddies o' eggcupwide cupcake coves, 
siamesecatsinatracyan siriuses,deep paintercoastal not hazelnight 
hollowasaeasteregg eyes. 
Inthebackofmyhead 
allovermiddl'ohmy face, atth'eadofmyexeggedfacedback, 
  my temples and my sinuses, Look says gesundheit, it's alalright. 
More than how Her lookslook, Her Bellyandlookandsmileandgenius 
makes me thinkless aboutthinkingabout me thinking, sabotouches doubt,
it's alalright. Good grace doesn't inflinch me, engrimace me like I'm seussian 
santaclaustrophobic greenhankmccoy when my holidayrepublic's interruptured 
by the public, forta be fairta fairest fare, taturn taciturn wou'd burn me as tooterse 
'bout th'enlightening delight that's felt Belly bedrock
of Ourtorsoes copogoing in slumpdance.
  
i want my input, contratemporary author like i fought a forestfire of borderline 
for custody of my unborn collectedpoems,   
openta th'imputation of coming stickyend generations - imputers all anyhow 
- in closedterms of arthist'ry, my supreme superficiality. And stuffierstuff that isn't the                                                                                                                         stuff 
that falls full patly ta fear or thaw ofpoems, th'overstuffer's notoverstuff setting                                                                                                                         centimani 
infinitely sharpenering pencils stringy. 'Swhat exiles in reabsorpbortion titan littl'un                                                                                                                         cronus,  
theofoetus papyraceus perhapsfatuous, birthdayless 'fore it's mother of all laters, 
heavenocidal goddler whose latemaker clockhand scythearms
first timethrusted wristwatchicuffs. But i've no personal tartarus falluhardy like fallujah, 
 
asSh'aintgone
adios ta Us, tara ta Love, 
tho' jovialville harp sometime'scroops, 
tho' i score my moantage typeriper thana humpof life, 
thanadaunting daughter hohumming with the lifelong 'ump foronly 
fiftypercenta beaut, 
or liarlyre jr. with dashing Xchromosomes. Cee, if my wrong stiffy 
schlungabun in You, Humpable Hope,  You would not responsibully me, 
so maybe i wouldn't even reproach creation et al 
re procreationnatal paunch, andtho' i might wager 
i'd crassly congratulate my Precious Wench 
on totintolerant torrents of jamradge rapids unstaunched, 
should a ruddywater babe debutant,
dailybreadbin petdebt pawninunforeseendivorce, 
from the tykebrook debouch
- o shruggles! i'd just hope bump's abel'd Belly snaglessly draguppable, 
th'if semen cain swim swimminglier 
than liquid liliths or marymaofgodgoober, prudence still the gendersender: 
my fearofcare'd carefearfully dent eithervia 'ccident of baf-  
flement, 
but sobhaggard, sidelinedcheek soggard, shesprog'd 
catastrofind therecanbeno othercandidates 
for Miss Centreofmyuniverse