He becomes to say.
And state the oddity TARGET store
with ever my complete best defenses
and longer
a man's cock in a dream
grows into something long-eared and elfin...
it calls itself love but might be a rabbit.
I think I just saw a Damien Hirsch seagull.
A Joy Division cardinal is its apparition
in the Goodwill store parking lot.
Does your poem suffer from "Wooden Buddha Syndrome?"
Wooden Buddha Syndrome is easily cured
in the early stages, but if the symptoms
are missed and diagnosis is made late
woe betide your poem.
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