What?! I Got No Game Now?

My little inquiry pony
registered largely for
dining inside the
dining-car. Manhattan,
you Zappa. Begin stroking
railroad raspberries, or
cracking loudly the cracked
gourd. Now go now from
here. Swiftly, you ascend
and erupt toward the
sleeping compartment.

My daddy was never
trapping other bobcats
but he saw, serously
fucked, other coyotes.
Then Kings descend narrow
gauges with arrows, hovering
below the net of stalkings,
paintings, waves. Then were
there Princes above rocks
and above everyone else whereupon
ounces settled heavily. And
Rose of Rose, steepled
and dappled, falling inside,
between. Bricks of French
mortar, haroset, beer is
liquid so Yahweh liquifies
seas. Elohim.