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.

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