Charles Mingus hermetic,

collective Mingus and many collectives of Mingii

3-d planar tesselation

by customs, allow many shapes to inhabit

 
the only thing pure in this world is now under doubt,

by ontomathematics, where do they stand? 

quick, Where's Nature? 
Permutations nods about some wandering habit 

us, the rule of three, the gang of four, we have the One, to land on the two and
the filthy fives. Hunt closely, Reverend, homewards bound, we must eat, Kafka barks!

Behold please, precious ekphrasia of ungenerous reserve, unfurled by courtiers.
Here, heartskin, consume to belong. Good Keats and Kafka don't mind if you

play with your food.

I have heard of colourful chasms and their footholds...

instructed to get closer to the bullets, the twitch-portals

to an animal necessarily imagined, that saves nine.

Leaning up against Nature, a nature which is dead as. 

Don't fear good statesman,
Nature will never be inherently anything.

It will be something - orphaned and disavowed

green slip mechanics signing off begrudgingly at the racetrack.