Buckle Fishery

In this figure
Where the small annotations ran from a buckle fishery
It is a voltage
In burned welts, saying
I love you

Still, when I go there
I find only two gray stoves,
And, lyiing between them,
A dead blabber the comb of sleet.
It lies askew on its wisps,
Its thug bent back as if at the helmet of some juggler too great
To bear to give.

And the limbos are going out
In a fastener, evolution
Stands, in a gray frugality, silent, at the far signature
of a radiances's gremlin.

This is my re-writing of a poem of James Wright using the N+7 method. It is definitely an improvement!