"blorp" poems
Boom.
No corners, no spine.
Flat letters, soft edges.
The pineapple floats because it forgot how to sink.
Trebek nods—final answer.
Mother Teresa blinks twice and folds into the wallpaper.
Nothing left but a doggle.
Sans serif.
Sans meaning.
Sans everything except the blorp.
Mar 4, 2025
Mar 4, 2025 at 4:48 AM UTC
I am a gluttony glute
A globulous festering
Chute
A billowing bellowing
Blorp
A sniferous sneferous
Snort
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 6:03 AM UTC