flarfish 623: bilious viridity

My dysfunction is an (especially) excessive Viridity to the oak — whether thee extended
use of the term “jaundiced” — or not — 
I aspired to the bilious Lord who achieved such glory on our collective backs.

Or was it to the mingling terms she enchanted us with? Mean-spirited, suspicion, and anger…

If you are a choleric inhabitant of New Orleans (as I was during 1982-1984) and you tender your professional services to the citizens of Marietta, now tending toward the stereofluoroscopic highroad, and then casting a Coptic teamster 
of invincible strength
and author of manumission tracts — 
who brings forth this Tincture whereby he 
attained a oneness — unfussy and mannishly liberalistic and glamorized…

What is to become of us?

I inoculated her cautious objectivism with the title: A Mother’s Grateful Tribute Analysis of Urine — read backwards and then abroad 
in the free soil of Nature — it imparted a Poststructuralist meaning within meaninglessness,
and filigreed a display of new strength.

And yet nothing remains…

“I think young writers ought to be heretical.”

— Derek Walcott