9.5
(2 votes)
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Let me have that
priapic torch to fumble
my way
through this dampness
this itching
What is this mound
of redolent
grass that shimmer
in the gloaming
eager
Ah!
Commence
the glorified rhapsody
to rapture
unbound by
woebegone wasps
Engage!
I look up above
the horizon lies
the streak of random visions
but with purpose
sound, true
Disengage!
Apply the treacle
to the anxious sore
blithe
uninhibited to stretch
abating backward in slumber.
|
Dear Callus
