We’re Being Burned

sod all
math steak
surges upward
her dark smile
rigs become countries
I clean
I farm
I get two hours poetic
layer cake AND horses
Me vs. Your Diet

Hardback poets writing
to orphans in
man syntax
muscle pandemics
for doggie crumbs, and
“oh yeah, I feel” fruity

I spray,
I ferme,
I leave,
and I adore you!

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