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. . . . . entries for 7.4.03 . . . . .
My parody poems:
so much depends upon
a pink parasol
feathered with silver dust
cast aside in the closet.
I have taken
your heart
foolishly worn upon
your sleeve
and which
you no doubt intended
to keep
for your beloved at home
I do not apologize
for it was delicious
dripping with the nectar
of temptation
and lastly,
As the vine
twisted around
the eaves of
the roof
first her
blossoms
gently
then the leaves
meandered through
into the tunnel of
the damp drainpipe
[] . . . ees @ 9:12:00 PM
come home?
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