Pierre Rausch Poems

A pogo boy on sticks, would it slip fitter happier a son bit
And what happens, it's my friends that help and care
My friends, that traveled for garbage cans
My friends, which traveled for the birds there who fly
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The congregation of the sun
Privatization, unleaded hoc
Drive slowly while you sleep
Since I finger on the loose
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Neither assent nor refusal
And then, it will not be long before I return
And so happy, it overwhelmed me
Will you keep my child
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Amalaan, quo sen amalan, muoma te amaleh amalaaaahan
Suore, quo sen suore, muoma te suora, suoooore
Badje, quo sen badje, muoma ta badjis, badjeernere
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Sword-blades, and shapeless projectiles
A friend inside a shapeless heir
Enorm pillow
Robbed in the pagoda osier
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Giselle, beloved loved pressure when
In there we find ourselves again
Soulless on metaphysical journeys
Each division from you in yours
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A town in every girl
An easy town in every robe
He warned himself to be
He would laugh and be stupid
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Arranged calories order
Theater productions
When we proceed to sketch
Accomplishments nourishing
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You picked up, and called the moon
You asked a minute too soon
Dancing dust rise among, fancy phase among
I need you now, heart hold bow,
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Who was attached to a saddle
It had been figured for long
The soldiers had no sleep
Can still be measured to figuration
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