a chunk of my neck is a
long hour of daydreaming.
the perp of poetry is sitting
in theatre rereading the
charcoal out of the sky.
we cannot solve it anymore
due to lack of eyewash.
this during an elm intermission.
word is word war three is over.
what flukes. it is yet possible
to punch my neck into account.
please take a book. room it
under the chalk. tell the
audience to go bi. grant
mission. be ginger
boils and goils.
