Poet In A Cage
A face full of fence
a gutbucket full of grammar
fart and grunt an epic
the fat runner`s sour breath
What a Scream!
As if he understands every word we say...
he jumps over a cheap epiphany
(on offer this week) for a
hermetic self-enclosed heads-down
and bares his teeth with I the big pronoun
at half lost teenies rucksacked with mom`s
little love, ice cream nearly inside noses;
Strange. Let`s go. I`d rather look at the elephants.
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