There’s a poet who’s a ham
And she’s filled with
Comment spam
In her poetry
there’s no cheese
no rye bread
no mustard
no indefinite articles preceding vowel sounds
used correctly
Her feelings
like bug bites
huge welts, itchy
discomfort concern for her own
Boundary unconditional
boundaries so nutritional
eat me she seems to say
eat me raw or lightly sauteed with a dash of lemon
and fresh ground pepper
A recipe for ill feeling.
(This bit of frothy goodness shared with you after reading the stuff presented by Madame Levy… a lover of good things poetic, yet not one to suffer fools lightly).
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heehee