drop that iris! by J. D. Nelson


I’m boiling a robotic crystal

the head of the moth is a raisin
the green barrette of the soup

the shape of a dormant idea
the pollen of the law

a circle of dough
I stand with the stone

the fossil of the martin
the self of the sherlock

in the pond of merriment
cheops in the corner

language is the tooth

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