I wrote this poem with oil, vinegar, and fine foods.
My pen did not.
I drew this picture with eyelashes, mustaches, and tears.
My paintbrush did not.
I thought this thought with lip balm, pine trees, and mosquitoes.
My brain did not.
I do not dream with REM but with caterpillars and manure.
Oh, Jack Kerouac, take me to bed and ease my itching.
Listen to that bluegrass play...
Fall asleep...
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC
I wrote this poem with oil, vinegar, and fine foods.
My pen did not.
I drew this picture with eyelashes, mustaches, and tears.
My paintbrush did not.
I thought this thought with lip balm, pine trees, and mosquitoes.
My brain did not.
I do not dream with REM but with caterpillars and manure.
Oh, Jack Kerouac, take me to bed and ease my itching.
Listen to that bluegrass play...
Fall asleep...
