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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