Friday, February 24, 2012

Cuttiest Little Prick

Gusto is pure
as in name of the sea.
Le mer c'est soir.
Urchins of yolk
pupils of broke
moon of fork
doom of spork.
Fluster the feather
for shearing river rocks
making illusions into
woolen mittens.
Refine the sunglasses
with expensive wine.

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