A Common Imp, Made of Cosmic Dust

Puddles of reflective gravity being scooped by hand . . Child’s play in innocent being.
Around the long corner on short notice . . Starlight cleavage on hole punch karate fold . .
Greyhounds running wild in the infinite night.

Digging holes . . Letting them fill up with water . . Cellular telepathy with clashing colors.
Static = Silence.

Static bats in the attic . . There is nothing that can have it.
Grabbing at plastic habits . . There is nothing that can have it.
Tearing holes in the fabric . . There is nothing that can have it.
Attaching enveloped mail onto a wind mill . . Where nothing can have it.
Asking for love in a UFO . . Nothing to make you think twice.
Doubting the ocean from a camera string . . Nothing to count on or retrace.