238. pluck pristine won’t, whether pig, artichoke

pluck pristine won’t, whether pig, artichoke
a scuba team stiff with, the chances remote (are)
that albert lord byron has THIS ONLY KIND OF
goat-pig chimera and expels it alive, if

spores into breathe of pot-bellies steaming,
birthed in the bottom of someone who’d bees had
(boy, this repeats, convoluted, this string of
random events, it’s hard to believe it)

the pure piston pressure bees into bred had
an agent OF SOME SORT (pork wallace said this)
built out of pigs that stopped in a system
for goats out of air (and bodies dead) shifting

what nature provides is wonderful, wise,
but probably not what is needed, for why would
all of this trouble for GOATS — who are humble,
i mean they’re not rare, there everywhere, under

bridges, in fields, in the air, in the streams,
in workplaces, hospitals, in all of the trees —
a menace, they’re awful, they’re stringy, the fall from
heights if you push them, their faces are mottled

they make quite good stews, but, still, WHY WOULD YOU?
the earth has enough of, producing continues
goats in ways weird and probably (clearly)
not at all possible, anyway, here we

sit, stand, whatever, if laying down, love it,
i’m not here to tell you the positions to plug in,
it’s fine, but describing these pigs multiplying
no reason (for) russell pork wallace (was trying)

fork still had stood by his master all through
his immediate death (by the pig-gas infused),
and four iterations of expelling goats, brain (his)
ISN’T NO MORE, but fork had a game-plan

for purposes (PLEASE, GET ON WITH THIS THING)
fork had with levels atmospheric (he’s evil)
of goat standing gas increased in the palace,
professor, the hall, in the autopsy salon
(cont.)