I lick the cheese from the end of my pen.
Some read lovelorn letters on benches
and Beautiful Girls have no reason to look up.
I was a little one
too. My mother
held my hand and led me
forward as I looked
back wishing I could
chase the pigeon
just like you.
If I poured this coffee all
over my face
Say I missed my mouth
Could it burn more
than this sun?
Well, would it eat my pores
and galvanize my metaphors
into fluid flowing from the tip of a tit?
And still, hours later, we chased the pigeons.
With no desultory climax.
“Dad if we walked a million blocks would we die?”
somebody post something to remove this poem from the top please
May 30th, 2008 | #
well, I like it. I like pen cheese. and lots of other lines in it. Let’s make it into a song?
May 31st, 2008 | #
yeah i actually really liked this, it was giving me all the heeby jeebies inside that i don’t get enough
June 1st, 2008 | #