many sunbeams.           High love bunked,
find us 
            birdbrained. 

                         Find us
                        ear merry, flinch many. Leap out
green birds, green meat from the wind; 
             a lot to be grass at our side. We should. 
We should. Our heads 
this way and calm to be no sea. 

The love bit, a l*ck fl*ck.

Asterisk’s the hurdle.  
Two tusks in the myrtle 
                        pixelate.
                                      Flounce.
                                      Together, then let go. 
This way,
there are pounds of seaweed in bloom.