Completely Sang

Anyhow -- note to self -- my butchery delusion
has laid vault to the hypocritical foam flower recalcitrant
who broad loomed my torso and Metabolife stock.

I dwell on prescription garages,
Rooseveltian paddocks
and Georgetown octagons.

Birch is my pleasure, I shall not want
idiomatic plug boards and
bewhiskered boatmen on a jellyfish mission.

Nor do I want permutating Hebrew biopsy
astronomers gangling and malapropping,
construing the dendrite freehold I have on delusion.