a poem for today, 3 October 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of eight sentences and its image]
It's couples' night at the singles' bar and everyone is hoping for a ménage à trois.
For the gorehounds, there are rocks bashing heads in, teeth falling out, flesh ripping, cannibalism, and much more.
No matter how far in or out of the closet you are, you still have a next step.
I'm not saying there's a damn thing wrong with a guy owning a Miata.
Women in high heel shoes can be taller and intimidating.
Fear is the little death that brings total oblivion.
Please do not turn on TV except when in use.
I'll tell them my religion's you.