floppy and furry and full-up of spines
offer a soft appetizer for lunch
star-studded tongue licking way out of line
crack that old mystery based on a hunch
flesh is so filthy I’m starting to rot
one thousand mushrooms per cell of my skin
can’t this old horse do much more than just trot?
is it the same to give up as give in?
something calls in the night, sharp and sweet, like candied ginger ought to be. there’s a wet heavy heat on the back of my neck
and i can’t help but think that you’re there.
from fact to poetry
every 20 minutes
check your own state and
compose something new
neglect is the gateway drug
facts are friendly
I receive the care I give, or more
(with a nod to Mike Barnes)