Blown, hiding place one
Two – six expire Friday
Seventh but a myth

Don’t make rules don’t
don’t don’t over think sylla
bles don’t be fuck me

                           
Sentence one: Israeli snipers target practice
Palestinian clay pigeons Sentence
two: fucks (and spawn) fat w profit high-five over shot giraffe
Next sentence shittier because shittiness shocks less,
cataloging all as curbing as cataloging none, I
am telling you three times The titan
who’s bought ten necklaces of Micronesian islands
to survive his plagues famines resource wars
decimation of not just species but genera
including you and yours, bub, me and mine,
will foreclose our wheat-back penny ass to buy an eleventh and twelfth

Counting the pounding
isn’t organization
(organization
  
oligarchal ham
mer). *I* tap my fucklessness
chime by snap finger