O poet moon

what's yer job poet O the whale
whole asked spouting mists of avalon to entrance
witchy way did we swim question-buoys
bobbing like fat fate seal targets
for orca pods snacking on sestinas or shad
enrolled in schools of duh
tasked in casks held in holds wodan odin took to sea
to vet the dragon aquatic
with lance of lightning query tipped godan
prodded hyrdogen from the water
to erupt tectonic
shackles O what's yer blob asked the dog
(told/blot was the answer mirrored"
tolled in traffic trolled by lures
hour Job is the minute listing of secondary and tertiary
anomalies such as that barb
of a symbol
running out to hydra
filly mental gods in fog 6 legged in hot wool sex socks
cupping a D sized germanic milk barrel
O what's mine job said the gold
dust blown from binary star mergers under the sycamore
plane wood knee, whittled down to cart
-ilage with no Ox
no Oxen but a boon of moon blood,
good pathfinder, peat minder.