Dumb little bird done gone and made its way to
May Day. Dumb little blue bird of the infested
elephants. Didn’t know which rhythm to function,
which mega-fiction to fathom. It’s a cheap thrill
to keep Zero from living-breathing. Snake-plant’s
found a way to make him seethe and bruise, but
that only stretches the elements as they rattle Italy.
I’ve got stars on my PJs and I do know the headcode:
seven sonatas in five-four tempo. So blow me. Thai
food’s gonna arrive and dumb bird’s got dim bulb.
I wanna wake [me]. This ain’t my bow-tied take-
out but a stanza worth repetition. Rhythm func
tion. Cheap bruise. Fun pill to reboot my horn-flute.
This dim plot just blew a break! Bam! Pow! Bing! Bopp!
