Doing some research for a story I'm editing, I came across pages of poetry by one Matt Ford:
Half arms and legs, nearly heads,
Crumpled skin like loose upholstery.
Manufacturing people is not quite so easy as
Taking control of them, . . .
—from "The House of God"
After a long day of rounding up circles
Which escaped from the cross-section of a cone,
The shape-charmer interrupts
A gang of squares pretending to be a crossword, . . .
—from "Thither and Yon"
Interesting stuff. I like.