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Wikipedia Poem, No. 125
You say puff pastry you say tax credit is a bulldog by now she’s probably lost in traffic skin darker than guns my father’s obsessed it will be hungry that guy who makes hot sauce climbs up my forefinger and into whatever the girls’ mortal wound — And I’m all like, bent, reaching raise…
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Alberto Burri
Thin lines of graphite gather in the sky Angels pull open two halves of the curtain Or the surgeon scalpels abdominal flesh “A whole chain of pulls and tensions”
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Wikipedia Poem, No. 63
“HarvardSquar on NyQuil / which time-true for everything all / like the jaw of god” give a bit sick here wait and Roy Tony’s body getting like its third bag and conversession fire but a vehicle of him then some Mass up in his shit and decks and C heavily crewed there’s not a thing…
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THE OFFICIAL POEM OF PEPSI® 2915
Sure, I’ll Pepsi Co. for the Avantgarde Search for traces of humanity beneath bottle skin Grant access permission breath in a bubble, oh you didn’t know? Google ‘groove’ I’ll wait outside the window with halogen Souring the snow black car sad aflicker We here at Pepsi Co. don’t care about rhyme only how it makes…
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