bad poetry
by Adam | Wednesday 15 July 2009
Diffident breezes pass plastic
bags and silicone through the
continuum, a fit of shade, a
narrow corruption.
Pages of fiction, explanatory answers
flit like switchgrass in July, the month
of fuck all, with peppers of
malaise and torrid prudence.
Comments (2)
There is nothing bad about that poem.
Posted by Katie Liederman | 15 July @ 13:30
There is nothing bad about that poem.
Posted by Katie Liederman | 15 July @ 13:30