I saw a hand on my sheet and my mind returned to the bleating sheep folding into the covers pooling on the bed machine beast this is such a claw foot tub full of dust and certain words. The bird flipped a spool in a pebble whirlpool among soft bubbles as the horse and the dog watched on. Bubba took a bath in a plastic tub before going to the synagogue in fear of hell and a case full of shmatas. Alice wore boots. She sat in a chair scattering seeds in the grass as bugs and mice laughed at their soft probes, pillow mackerel. Yes, speed glass boom, this pen is filled with fog. Sand and green bush, wet flower-drip, Magnolia, like a hand. I tell time in snow and so make your port now. Rain nails the slush in a bedchamber of the orchestra with cello and violin. Human voices follow me down. Tinny rinky-dink sound of cotton batting and the scrunch of fibre strings.
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