Some sick men bend car parts to cool the influence

Antique urns have at parties. Beat out your joy gone from gloves

Into a fine sandwich. Yankee assholes, you can’t mow the lawn if you don’t pick up your trash.

The first method was to bless the child under a veil never having seen it.

The fire department screams down the street as I jump away from my ideas,

Up the entrance they run on company time, a chick pokes through its shell and that’s it.

Try to get off the train and they’ll beat you until you’re hungry again;

You think you could live on this anger, but will it fill your stomach?

Jade goddess drove the van all day to Washington.

Her arrival was pure as new underwear, the jeweler locked her up crying.

Blue clarinets prove her folk-loric history in the rain, though infrequently.

“Who blames her, the poor old wench I remember.”

—A postcard from a monkey after the death, add it to the pile.

In years her cruel feet dancing will be done like a vapor.