Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Smog of The Immomal Man


Hold, assail and see.
Pleased to sing for your sputter.
We're drinking from the hose.
And coming to blows.
A blown nose and a shown show.
We utter.

Holy sails at sea.
Pleas to sling arms and mutter.
They're thinking of those.
And coming in from snows.
The bones grow and they groan low.
And flutter.

* * *

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