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Chaos Pure
Some prefer very
Exact
Refined
Specific
Machines
With
Tiny metronomes
Decorating
The thick rims
Of their glasses. Some
times metal
Makes you soft and
Some people
Prefer that
To hairy knuckles
Hairy Jungles
Hairy guitar chords
Hairy hearts
Maybe some people
Kiss the white steps
Unfolding to the
White steeples
With with dresses
And white wine
Lighting up the monotone
Murals
But I can't see them
Through these waves
Of oak mud
We're chuckling and
Splattering and
You say you like
These scents better-
The snapped binding,
The watery candles
The clay drying.
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