Intro..
Draw...
Poems..







In the engine room:
the fuel pressure is beating in pipes:
happy screws in the concubinage with nuts:
the matriarchy in a tools drawer 
Cryoplankton ripens right here in front of my eyes (I'm looking for part-time workers into harvest)
Peter is removing isolation with his mouth:
copper on tongue:
my snow grenadier
He uses the metaphors naturally and with clear sharpness 
"catch this elbow..
hold the nipple..
The U fits into the T..
:this mischief of wagoners
:the straightforwardness of high voltage
Drunk in jargon of cartons:
Dr. Minor:
laid down on cross screws







Back...
Along..
More...