Poetry is a sport. A delicious sport.
tho really only fresh Ranch dressing will do—the buttermilk warmth— & plenty of ground black pepper—& the sky, too, needs to be blue as worn denim or blue as a Crayola sky blue crayon melting for hours & hours over Golden Gate Park—
& not thinking too much how it all slowly goes into indigo as the clarinet sighs down to low G & below & deeper blue as is most everything else—
Related articles
"Meteorillogically, I had never seen anything like it."
Rollin out the red carpet in Hollywood, and eating it up at Sabina's Restaurant
Air dodgeball -- and whiffing with KPOP
Also from this author
"Meteorillogically, I had never seen anything like it."
Rollin out the red carpet in Hollywood, and eating it up at Sabina's Restaurant
Elliptical, if only by intention
Most Commented On
Recent comments
- These kind of solutions help - May 18, 2013
- complaining about right wingers - May 18, 2013
- ". With over one million - May 18, 2013
- Well, Jesus ain't letting you into - May 18, 2013
- "Currently, there is no - May 18, 2013
- Yes, it's called Newspeak: - May 18, 2013
- why is this MY - May 18, 2013
- Tell the Yakuza. - May 18, 2013
- Cutting off the nose to spite the face - May 18, 2013
- I'm guessing that you have never read 1984 - May 18, 2013









Comments
Post new comment