January 13, 2003

Memories of a Breakfast Drink
Tang, sprang plain-sung against the tongue
orange pistoles blasting orange twang.


Winter Whine
Nature dieth
we acclimate,
accustom our arses to the
furniture of our minds;
live there awhile
eschew the outdoors
till numbness ensues;
till the summer sun seems sudden-garish;
like a drunk at the symphony.

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