When
   On hamattan wings
Flapped iced
Into my oblongata cold
Into moneyless sadness
Of our saussures paper
Locked in
Folic signified signifier
In language
Too much mystige in
Folic signifier  signified
Till tides come
When
On glorious danwsday
We acknowledge
That those potholes
We
Wobbled our way through
In
Thorns trumpeted
Into our ears
Too congealed
To hear bata drams
Hypnotizing us
Into spagettied queens halls