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Sep 2018
Transfixing mushrooms wide
into soil where it spreads like jelly
congealed of teary elephant trunks,
where upon raves of reviewing waves
widened with staves of sonic craze,
like spores into you, like you!

Across Africa, truly truly –
not one country. All through chutneys,
it is poetry and Aphrodite’s ivories
where blood drowns in Lake Loch’s
scabs of **** of Ella’s contrast
back into square dancing acts
and somehow, somehow –
esta no es mi lengua
why did you ever come out?

Crumbling inwards as in space,
individual supernovae, quite a chase
I do hope Woodrow dies a boy.
Written by
Elyon
149
 
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