Sometimes, words
in a stadium.
Sometimes
left wants right
in a pressure
situation. You
poets know what I
mean. A piano
ascends
the gracious
leavening of human
oh
what the fuck. A
guitar can do the
same smart-alecky.
Which town
do you wonder?
Ambient flakes
of creativity
flutter
like impulsive
dynamo abreast
human level. Explain
Donald Trump, plain
vireo. You are
virginal, with
conceit. You
have seen nothing
virtuously. Donald
Trump
arouses the
sentient stone. The
stone says,
“Stone”, “a”
Mutter
makes cream
of wheat
like
a livelier nation.
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