Monday, May 7, 2012
My Latest Poem
'Raga Man'
Eating pasta on a Futura flight
and I bet that some of the sardines are both up and air tight.
Grind Ink into the canvas.
Drinking faster than I have before or will after.
Tea. Gin and Tapas,
that was dessert,
served by the stewardesses,
in a sedation tin,
above pastures
and above the thug-pit.
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