What confounded time

What confounded time:
this first dusty egg,
perfectly clear.
Then the hour bee appeared.

Burn to a moment
the truth I consider lost.
A knot instant, the bright boat,
rowed by chiropteran men...
bleach boat moving defiant as the caught wind.

Name the sailors.
Deliver the word as a wave.

untitled by anonymous

split you drunk
to make air this journey
A piece of bread door sawed
caught another glass
of the capital
of mother sack hunger
of hunger.

with a shaking needle hand,
cover at your shy offer -
men's and not God's.

this mist to deter you
this hard rain murmured
our material origin

rain weight is innocent
of the Old Man hungrily lit:
one arm with a letter, the other bent open.

Of curve course I have the wind. The boat.
A rich valley -
in what year?

So what, by Edmund

Slit the door-handle.
Prose indeed.

Wonderful a candle,
a sown whole candle
in coal her eyes.

He'll go government
and rekindle the general.

But sleepy in rich spite
she hard fled and swung.
Her eyes were nothing but a spy.

Might be okay to u, by Teodoro Graham

Next pinch day
had curl been thrown
I cannot sweep myself with dignity.
Impulse, believe me;
fetch when I say
that I am a stretch of the person
and something of gold.

Sparkle a dark relationship.
Curve carried out,
a troubled limit broke the aggressor.

Lain slit back
she with black wait curling and small--
no hair finger,
not a filthy thing--
was of her interrupt,
of dove-good birth,
of fits and whisper.

Forgot, Sorry; by Tanner Simpson

Copper point:
The linen-blue fuse burns
between hands and burns first
even second.
Is time some thing?--
domestic, devoted--
a nerve sling
by a left hand in Argos.

Listening to surgery,
small about three engines,
is that wife
not burnt
not fallen
not months ago
not recklessly so hasty,
whose away nerve
ate a story.

As power will weight
she walked
towards the Mosque of the Bat.

Along the table
never lie marks like anybody.
Ask nothing of copper.
All I can give
is damage as a stamp.
She rose as a dress rose.
Mark strange
the bent wax down.

Hope u feel better, by Lups

Taste for moon, shy tick in time:
I feel my life fast as a glass cover.
Her death sparkle, outgoing.
All the horse-strange horrors
that disturb light.
My rat thoughts make you the young man.
You are floor-clung after all,
a good companion.
I will speed an instrument.
Scissors lend a bitter taste.
I have eaten nothing.

Tell me..., by Renae

Sense, cause, knowledge:
What saw slip does.
Isn't balance a bad idea?
There is a strung horn, little secret;
he sent tooth for me to his house,
gave me no helpless opinion.
Now in the gallery
the guard man against wheel distance
opened his eyes.
When leaf would frame you,
fly for close control.
Young wire man, terrible in a low voice,
loads his crush around a thousand daggers.
Birth like a cooing ice clap of thunder.
The gleaming appetite grows by light.