Ultimates by Jay Snodgrass

Here is what you think:

I said everything:

Notice the blowing, full bore,

Nightly endured

Production, still, out of bounds.

Nobody said you would make

A flywheel of ground dinosaur teeth;

–A sewage system of forgettable –

A canonic undertow of unwavering vanity,

All, reigned in to the heart-thump.

I SAID: you may

Northern. The sanctity, cowling doomsday,

The great ones wave banners.

Their gloved fist at the sky. Superhero

Dilettantes, the total crimson cut

Of cosmic declaration, a super-cision.

While the superfluous over bite, fiend to crinkle,

Listens to the over-sound: here comes

The report: Dupe. Acquittal. Spectral

Fade.