Pizza
Pizza.™
No, like. I mean
fucking pizza,
man. I'm not a pizza-
man, I'm a pizza man
I am all the poetry, man
Poetryman! ©(pending)
I am elbow pads
on a sweater. Hot-N
bothered& ready
Should I hang
up my scarf & quit
poeming?
Half-ə and all ah!
Toppings &cheese
& l-e-t-t-e-r-s
deflate
Let this poëtry marinate;
lettuce have
a cashmere. opening.
Di[s] corduroy pants.
April is the completest
month. This pattern
is a good one. Sure,
we broke, but we ain't
broken.
Capitalism is
Over-
stock-
Holm Sin-drone;
it's the most argyle
of terrors. I hide
in herringbone & wolf
tooth. I hope I make it
some day.
