Somewhat stressful day at work followed by some pleasant hours at home. I wrote the poem below during a series of slowplaced and sweet broadcasts over the interweb.
Tell All Your Friends
Time to kick out the jams,
free gloomy Gus form
nursery cathedral, frock the
priest until he strips while
the gargoyles ogle and play cards.
Kid, I've been pissed at you
for far too long, sour lines and
disemboweling songs, hallow
tapping on witches' gourd. I might
broom aside a few webs
(all's left of you), as I thump
my wagon up the drive, through
your gate and into a juke and a toke
before I even make time to write you again.
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