a cynic, a mystic and a Billy Mays clone walk into a poem . . .

we were once

shoeless children in a snowstorm,

eating leather

Bibles found in aluminum trashcans.

 

we are now faceless monsters

sucking redemption from the bones of destruction.

 

but,

if we work hard, and remain faithful,

 

 

we might, one day, become glorious

bloated dogs in roadside ditches

 

 

or sainted footless children

at a giant shoe store sale.

 

 

life is the gift that keeps bleeding;

 

 

an infinite supply

of the best worst-case scenarios

ever assembled in one affordable chunk.

 

 

try it now!

Reviews

[Kenneth The Poet]

One of your funniest....