from back to front it seems as yesterday
clock-face aloft in gods own seedy town.
it is as feared, the dead shall not appear
now the pleasant people talk a giblets song.
their gizzard of malarkey's spit
three pokes of moon from muscles of a tongue
they chatter most as lovers
under covers of a mushroom heart
each pregnant under promise of a lung.
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Author:
Melvin James (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: July 13th, 2024 12:56
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Online)
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