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no commas

Roseann her teeth her mind her neediness
she scrawls a fundamental spirit of disorder
revolves beyond the carousel
the rousing house of winter's carousel
dissolves the marks of numerology
the dark red marks of winter's numerology
and searches for the grander
the alternative forms of grace
doubt oozes from her knees

Invisible Miranda writes in dialogue
her sprawl of speech beyond a blushing bush
flows into a storm drain caught
caught within the upstairs bedroom
upstairs bedroom's gloomy storm drain
drips in bleachy patterns on the carpet
she searches for the grander
the alternative forms of patterns
as the frost consumes her guests

One more maybe -- who?
I don't know but she has nice eyebrows