Member since February 22, 2009 | 0 Readings |
I am a pleasant mother pheasant plucker. I pluck mother pheasants. I am the most pleasant mother pheasant plucker to ever pluck a mother pheasant. But I don’t write.
Subscribed by Graff Haley
the aberration / peacocks will march / ghazal on systems / knitting deathsmy son is of fear / a pussy willow stains her / encore: cops / knitting…
In the crosswalk, / a schopenhauer / that died. / / It swims the air / and grass / / between mothers / and their hot dogs. / / …
Poems I’m going to write and submit to…
Poem that I spilled a soda on but can still kind of read / / Poem that isn’t just about porn but is porn / / Shall I compare thee to a…
This used to be a love poem.
I’ll kiss you up and down and out the window / like my parakeet / which flew out the window / because I threw it. / / Maybe ‘other person’…
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Laughed out loud so loud my neighbor complained.
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