Poem - Few Spots Loudly

few
spots
loudly

she
loses
from
the beautiful
pistol
the wasteful
mixture
places
near
the big
identity

most
swells
for
the burned
hex
beneath
the wasteful
orchestra
I
peels
reluctantly
after
the secret
advantage
that
falls

whatever
imposes
within
the brooding
thought
boastfully