M a d d y C h r i s m a n - M i l l e r —

Banquet in Silence

Bundles of cod sounds
Warm your mouth for me
Actually see these juicy ribbons and thank the donor body
Not two but three play dead young mullet L-shapes
Quadric curve of a tail, scary milky O sounds
Under centers of shoots in bunches ‘scarole
Easy dead, vertically shot, a clinking unleashed among us…

To her this is direction!

Sleeps with that struggle for one piece to wrap and gulp the crescent
I would not refuse, I have just this little source
Of poison in sweet milk on teeth
Necessary and silent these mixtures sound fantasy
Selection de novo or elsewhere rosettes,
That music is more language and more language
It begins an Icelandic pan-fry later allows a food or nidus.

Let me, I want to know types in sea species, Thoreau flakes off
Ends that are healthy speak salt of restoration, once very gray
Sounds set aside the summer lakes with slender stalks debate
He needs Almira
Although of what spoken?

No more Kemetists coming Nova Roma
Neat pashka finding balance prejudicial, why we never sleep now indoors
Celtic a construction which means a germ is coming not to give us trouble
A germ is morning, mornings spent peering down the tip of a lance
Even mist available as hard seed from what is not repeated
The cat’s paw of wild form-play is interest exposed
Compounds of both-at-once as it crosses the dew point
Amply beated.

Handsome Drinks

Lift a nested set of chocolate, refectory nibs, warm kidney stoneware
Allowing eight drops go by before the reminder:
Field is limited by holding in rolled sleeves,
Umbra in fact a full glass of almondine slurry of gloss of hardening eyes
Slid slick across a bumper crop too old to cook hierarchically
Less apple abuts a balancing ad they still perform injunctions.

Gogh, the Americand cherry hiding behind
Generosity, naturally
Out of all the juleps turn towards me
A rugged taste, something of swill turned about turned
Out onto lady Baltimore.

If you taste the mess of yellow box gum
Lemon for a hundred
Blithely a play but to adapt comfortably learn to split logs
Gong shards of plates, that butcher song road person
Hell of character, meeting place
Stippling prue laid away
Last two beautifully managed to flow
Untapped, opened up, a bright heavy dolmen
Georgia skin-shaped chin contact.

Which we cannot do without and yet,
Simply a twosome is fine here
Lately the slugging lateness enrobed
We think for ten official acts
What was a thousand colas is now all one limber gob
Only when we found it a loop ineluctable
Glass pastis, the sable bottom gut-let
This quiet black sloping
Hill.

Sea Window – Tinker Mackerel

Salt-rising I alibi nature
I eke out paltry squares of froth
Ever arching cork leg
And five clinking silverside
Saltant spume laid to chestnut
Who are wide and real, contained in many, lone minutes.

This is a tool
Ibex razz open spawning
Forcing passage to bed of lettuce
Nor an escapement, nor cruel capture
Double rare the clouds which are games made in burning leaves.

A gorgeous flat palm of air
Oh, chilly fog clock
I envy your unfailing
All the same net-drenched and frozen
Wedded to the time until his death.

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