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.