-An Epitaph out of Respect for String Beans-
Ho-hum he died. Thumbs his main accomplishment. They stuck out, he more… protruded, amuck did run his gullet. There he lies six deep in spry, hair glopped like jelly, nose akin to anchor rusted. Shows how much he maladjusted. 00 Be the 1st to vote.Share this: Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email More Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)...
Read More-Waiting at the Terminal-
Poem-a-day entry number two. This is a pantoum poem. In pantoums, the words from lines two and four of every stanza repeat as lines one and three of the next stanza. Although the words should repeat exactly, punctuation is often shifted to change the meaning in unexpected ways. Enjoy! — -Waiting at the Terminal- I know it is a beginning because I hold my elbows different. Rub the scaly bits, and I can’t stop. Because I hold my elbows, I have so many squirmy bits and– I can’t stop having to do something. I have so many squirmy relatives. Can’t look, but having to. Do something! There is nothing to do. Relatives can’t look, but the pinewood lies open. There is nothing to do; it feels like Velcro. The pinewood lies. Open some rum or a window. It feels like...
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