W. Barrett Munn
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Fat FingersA Poem by W. Barrett MunnFat FingersI hato thys ohpmeApolc R 4 Pi.Dud U gil ny toxt?Coff mu.Fux hiss.DON;T TESTKALL. |
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The Scalped TicketA Poem by W. Barrett Munn*** I am but a single dot in a galaxy swirling red and white. I am moving with the crowd as wagon wheels explode from a cave into su.. |
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Texting FrozenA Poem by W. Barrett Munn*** There were two kinds of people once in two places, one where I lived, freedom loving Okemah and Blackwell .. |
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Time TravelerA Poem by W. Barrett Munn*** Such speed I’ve never seen before or even heard of, like a shooting star dissolvinginto darkness. There went tha.. |
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Having Fun During Bombing RunsA Poem by W. Barrett Munn***Whistling is a fun thing to dowhich rhymes with blue but youprobably already knew that.What is better than a pair of lipsto give the slipto ill wil.. |
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(A-34). Whistler was Not My MotherA Poem by W. Barrett Munn***I became a whistler at an early age, havingbeen blessed with a voice best suitedfor summoning bullfrogs. Practice makesbetter, and later I got a jo.. |
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Going PlacesA Poem by W. Barrett Munn***I was never goodat mathematicsthat's probably whyI can't surf. Surfingis geometry at itsmost intense. Iwas never goodat geometry either.That's whyI.. |
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The Fifties Explained in Fifty FeetA Poem by W. Barrett Munn*** It was the Fifties when a fifty-foot woman filled the movie screens, a poem on film about what happens to a human bo.. |
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It Depends on the Music PlayingA Poem by W. Barrett Munn*** Laid out, laid bare, layered. Does nothing stay the same? Do you want me to change or are you asking only for the s.. |
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Small GameA Poem by W. Barrett Munn*** I gave up hunting for something to write about years ago. Now I write about two things only: I write about life, .. |
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