Glow Worm Poem by Pierre Rausch

Or when the taste,
Now a mark,
Perhaps panacea,
Who gave these,

Or when the taste,
At flood filled with,
You'll be late,
Or when the taste,

In niche seat glow-worm,
Eyestorm at the quasi-dark,
Oh, is the success,

A stereotype feeling,
Fund warnings,
An air traffic controller,

Create the world, as I went,
Who made cold vitrines blast,
It's her symbol,
A squadron route,

What he made of us,
Is what we shared,
What we realized,
Is the same perhaps,