a grouse with completely feathered feet


Josh is leading a movement to send poems with "aubergine" as the last word to the New Yorker. It all makes sense. Really. Here's mine:

Seige Mentality

Picking up sticks containing polders and $10
in the giant tuber forest
I forgot sunscreen

The way out of the box
is the box factory
A corrugated told me that
I forget why exactly

However if I were the murder capital of 1783
I would decrease into a single cow

Entrapment nourishes broken personal effects

Who really roots for easy way outs
amongst pretzels and quarters on the floor of
the onager
Odds are
phonecia would enjoy walking among us

From port sailed a few eggplants
and their aubergines


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