This is a time
When a man
Needs to eat a full chicken
And flesh he can’t afford
Let him go for an egg
That is a full chicken
From a life chicken
Poor innocent man
Just saved a chicken from the knife
Man with his muscular knife and fork
is such a
BACKSTABBER FOLKS

When wise ones have spoken
then fools steal their words
and spout them in token
phrase ways for the birds

They say things like "do not
count eggs 'ere they hatch"

But one thing I'd add to
that oft-spoken phrase
as something you should do
(an act that well-pays)

it's if you fear dragons
—hard-boil the batch

You have no right to complain
if you tread on my bared soul.

Is it my fault if you're pained?
You've crushed me with your sole.

I don't mind breaking apart
Careful handling's a rare feat

But I have to break my heart
When you crush me with bare feet

You leave the kitchen with my remains on the ground.

It's my job to sweep the floor clean.

It was my first time meeting A’s grandmother-
I brought her flowers
Laid out on A’s den floor I begun writing this poem
While A watches anime-
English subbed
We are supposed to be studying-
we did for a while but
E has been on the same page for half an hour
As C sits atop a table-
making bird noises from above
We move to the dining room
because A’s grandmother made noodles and egg rolls
E is ******* up his noodles like a vacuum
I don't blame him- they taste like Jesus
C sneezes so loud it makes everyone jump
I look around the table, thinking of the past year
And all the friends i've made
Love, Platonic love, is beautiful

We estimate a teen gets a ***** stuck up his or her **** every four seconds.
Vacuous air space remains in the ****** for some time afterwards.

Oh yeah. Up my ***. Up my ***. Up my ***. A lit candle–up my ***. A firecracker, a finger, a thumb–up my ***. An egg. A vibratin' egg. A scrambled egg.
Well, yeah, my *** may be big, but I don't recall a song ever being written about your flat one. Interesting!

It really does smell like something crawled up my *** and died.
It is even more disquieting to find mold growing, pink splotches – Are they from outerspace?

*** angel wings, like the kind they got in greeting cards and ****. float over to 'em, I'm floating, cause I'm dead.

The sharp jagged edge,
An exhausted little beak
Bedraggled feathers.

A banded garden spider,
an ace sky diver,
                    
                     lands
                           on a
                     lighted spot,
                    shaped like
                           an egg.