
I like this poem by Scott Keeney. I believe this is called a "belly stanza." I think the next line is Get in my belly spoken with a Southern drawl, but Scott was too polite to include that.
Abusing Nietzsche, they descend in their Joe Brainard pyjamas...

3 comments:
wohoo!
wohoo is right..yr a night owl...i like owls but don't want to end up one of those people with 800 ceramic owls in their houses...
you can always tell when they die because the thrift store suddenly looks like halloween...
i know! My Grandmother used to collect owls, and the goodwill is always chock full of 'em.
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