Patriotic Larks

Singing, he felt so idiopathic.
He wanted his poem to be like building a nest.
He was absolutely batshit-crazy.
Up and away, whatsoever.
Beyond the great tap-root
of intention there is good authority.
Replication rock.
Dream of a rock that reproduces.
Oh cumming is just
syllogism mayonnaise alien.
I don't care if your Subaru
is plastic and farts carbon dioxide.
I find the frigid darkness of madness
exceedingly patriotic. I must admit,

however, I feel the same way about larks.