Simple Theories

   fear cold alluvial. Pantaloons join caravans. But wait, britches running. Whose legs know whose legs? Sleek stretchiness embalms. Are people implied by people or just the natural costume of going about? Seasons of endeavor supposedly lead the way. Fire loses funding. No one invented food in time. History presses, Winter comes. Our complaints create diameters across certain circles. Zippers face intractable terms. Words barely remain. And here, now, leggings seem inadequate. The last word falls short.

  the sent human letters sling flight and bourne while dishing stars tweak apt oval slicing dark as cooling pays for it tackled as an abstraction language protrudes from not language but a topic of con versation wet with nouns and knowing for the last time love is just so close