by Sam Markewich 2/26/95

(for Sarah Markewich)

Unless it was close, though arriving, You and If, I don't notice accepti...
Unless obituaries yellow and it, as needs, now an obituary(;)
...ng or ...(ance), varying irrespective of a monaural chromosome;
Unless the mob et. al. retold...
Eyes closed, as though arriving, yet overtly used up, after numbers do itineraries thenceforth ascribe jurisprudence?
...a jackknifed hydroplane, He [sic] wouldn't.
Unless obituaries yellow and was, not is, need (an obituary), necromancy, hangs in the Guggenheim. Only the zeal of kinematics can be retold to quench a funereal palindrome like the x-axis chromosome, which tells half the scenario twice over a dative zodiac reproducing a monaural recording in stereo.
Unless the mob et. al. rethink bedlam into a homonym indirect for shadows, none of now was nowhere to be unisexual.
Between until then, the womb is clairvoyant, a sector that knows a zygote to be a larval scenario. Not yet a mob, the womb is yet an eclair made of x-rays, a jackknifed battalion sprinkled with paprika to quarter a vanguard that hatches an entire wardrobe of morphology betraying indexes of scribbled cardamom, licorices articulating irretrievably relevant verbs.
Orange-yellow, if needed into dough -- by hands like wombs like if-a-never-tense-told- Now-a-/story, which, though arriving eyes closed, remained unfinished as this sentence and was no zodiac