like a new story you propose accepting
link’d-out flares up to
synch time at stage manner
isms plod a herd
with slant regard for
the strooth
well, you do that then
i’m just bitter:
canned ed.
(hooky but punchy)
arrange it on a stave
save it in a cave
.. it’s rigged
like sampling Uncle Sam
all those pelvic-jutting riffs
lowglowin’ as unurned
got the Catullan fever
& the orphic morphic flu,
just flew
down the flue
to find
a place to crash—
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