I Wiped My Mouth On This Poem

a creation of piled clippings
the confetti blocked my aorta
causing pulses to coagulate in my head
a fete in my tete i’d let it set
but somehow i now have realized
i’d meet the spectre if i slept

March 8, 2004

Please follow and like us:

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.