Product Quality Questions

 


 

   The Starling Engine
           a collaboration of Tom Clarkson and Dale Houstman
 
 
 
 
          The Dilapidated Tapir is a hoofer doing that Preemptive Cringe.
          The Dilapidated Tapir is utopian syntax eaten with chives.
          The Dilapidated Tapir is that blue resin secreted by knockouts.
          The Dilapidated Tapir is a compost of pliers.
          The Dilapidated Tapir is the manila maxilla of scented housetops.
 
          Why do I curdle the salt chocolate of the Irish Hasp
          if its compensatory cement adores only the most expensive distances?
          Why do I em-butter the still hairy water of the Irish Hasp
          if itís only a charity snuffbox seducing a blowfly?
 
          Or is the Starling Engine of wintry dogfish finally calm?
 
 
 
          Why do I husk the stone stowaway of the Irish Hasp
          tender and gummy at each herbivorous crutchline?
 
          Or is the Starling Engine of the wintry dogfish finally calm?
 
 
 
          An itinerant jangle in the manicure of 50 waiting rooms
          fell into a Liechtenstein ether.
          The first 25 waiting rooms leaked a Freemason whose hauteur was tan.
          The coagulating handkerchief shrieked. 
 
          The Ostrich Box Chastener in the manicure of 15 waiting rooms
          feel into a Liechtenstein ether.
          The first 5 waiting rooms remembered the composite jitney
          curling up in a hive of oversouled dogfish.
          The coagulating handkerchief shrieked.
 
          Or is the Starling Engine of wintry dogfish finally calm?

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