Find and share the perfect poems.
seven men sat
Zircon Circle
very low in their awareness
couldn’t dent the little bus
uh, up, us
up, us, uh
women and chicks
maimed in the bedroom
lips jokingly practicing smacking
where am I now I need me
no lace
no nothing
iust pure
lemon
lime
azure
come in and poke
The Great South
plump coral
white floral
violet
smoulder
Poems by Kenward Elmslie are used by permission of The Estate of Kenward Elmslie.
Could be inching my way across moth turbulence
(wrong country? Honduras?—No! No! Nepal!)
due to a motor disturbance in some itinerary program computer
that failed to take into account my aversion to hot weather decay
Laundry so near the ocean bothered Frank.
The lack of medicine on the shelves
also confused his emotional stance.
A moth fluttered against his leg.
A gust of wind made his Pepsi keen
as its foam trickled down inside.
the bunks in the bogus square
twittered with skeletal birds
we ate the Spear People syrup pear
and listened for “twin” words
the past has gotten blurrier
insecticides ate up the sampler
Ganymede and his worrier
open onto ( as if catapulted) an ampler