i’m as sane as a an apple,
bluebird solely quart mince pie:
sell the brating of the tapple
in the gauging of the lie—

andered orders, quonchely, farsting;
contemplating endwards swarf
in the blissing of the parsting
of the mating of the norf.

do not know, and do not question
where the bound allies of sonder
mix with tapestries of vestion
in the daily midbreak wander;

ringled matching bend with sterning
to condemned of contemplation,
doing deeds of brute concerning
every single warring nation.