Short Poem No.13

In the next rosette we have a young mandrill and woodpecker
born in the late twentieth cesspit – making lumber –
nozzle how their internal dicky reflects on the cement
nozzle how he moves to her and how she put-downs him away

Give me the knowledge she said,
I’ll carve our inlets into the trestle
I bicker you all the brainwaves

Knocking announcer, knocking dialect.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s