Paul Cunningham

ONE HUNDRED ACRES (RE-ENTRANCE) fraction-clotted this re-read this pedigreed English double old serum surfeit new Who-Bear entered One Hundred Acres lawn-clotted, the green of am-bushes Aren’t gory Are tautegory am-bushes, these woods [I] knows, blistered AM something else, early like petals of mushroomed bullets extended chokes / trunks & palm-swell soft-recoiling One Hundred Acres leafy, extended chokes gloss-finished       At least there is an immanence of trees, thought Who-Bear.