R. D. Parker

Sour aqueous fuchsia forklifts
        burr esplanade a soupçon:
    O polymorphous garbanzos

    that synthesize Miamisburg
        and tell the musty dodges of Bellefontaine—
heed ye now that no single beta pathétique

    dare circuit the dumpsters of indigo
        to launch at last the millennial imps russet and unruly
until once more the midnights multiplicative

march across the chalky day that
    douses everything but one thing
        the day that—if only we scour the tablets

the forsaken tablets if only we scour them—
        will liquefy orange seeds and burn
    their liquor into carbon drool.

R. D. Parker writes in more than one style. He also has a poem in Caketrain.