Monday, March 3, 2014

2 poems || Steve Timm

A tea wok like folks like us used to live in
awerly updated makes it lifey
ones pearose the pertures for it
dances in the spinach tongue
meek werepoles hatch the musicker in ’m
triadulation it comes out as, that’s hoped that is
owner talk
the seven owners of the world vs the heavenot wanderers
not about the fit though, the withoutfit, justice
we talkfolks like us the weigh we in at
it saws so unbursing
the pull-ease the awes
so I to know yourself saws apply
not as danglous as sound my thud
I’d sport a dervish a femora a boweler and whyn’t
I’m not getting any fadder
like salaams to the ladder
a hand apiece alike
it’s the lot of us
this ripen regnance this sweet ambiguance
Princess Papa you can cull me

Eye bow toothy adjuration
love a pried hate the flout, egg
all the poopy ratsy the tattarooey
will you be my Tartar poet gassed the fault
as about as any, What-Would-You-Want
mission abluted at all
smitten smitten who got smote
I would only a door and keep going and hands-using
dear Untle Morrow
take the welcome tridger
zigs is a manually splender
bebawbeboo and ask, ask is it
jacency, jacenry, jaceuary ossuary
I am as much as is even morsel
but this is the less-sell
been working the nigh she iffed
terping the light conditional hike on like ’s any
did I mention the ballasting gronted me murk
the hence of all
I do bow and I would my shoulder sprained
that's a season by the way

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