forest baking results

 

 

 

fancy design      bind lacquer, hinge               mine river

will you            pant it yellow                          double onion non

defecate story    every hinge happens for a raisin               neo al-tab bacilli

 

urology small’s              small does                                       mortar liquor

jr wrath in season                       kiss a snide remake  god bye

 

wind cloud will you                        crinkle a wire schlingen bangin’

slow-worn                   worm out flower bloom                         submarine narrator

grief dreamy             hinges will you             brassy side board

classy cyborg won’t                           grumbler brute force                         dump roost

 

dole yawl babbling                     can it fiction                          wealth of trouble

what it talk is             what you had had                           will you twinge it

petty moss-grown             groan and name-board                          bologna well-read

 

swathe till fun            woolen went r                       willie nest lee

whit and wolves in                    windy invitation                     mock and hanky

 

this is a puma                         poem plump                          brag art

yawn a giggle                         restless E hurt                                               chatter shit

 

this is compliment                            complain walking                 waggle gurgling

 

 

 

To hear the poet read this poem, click here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gardenia: Pained Rag...

 

Behind the miles of the hind feet,

that dint in the slow-wheels harrows sorrwoe. 

Lopsided did and do not, don’t nod off. 

 

Versatility undid dew-worm.       

An Avid, Varied-Rider.

Tall and literal.  Will row warn real.    

 

An honorable interpretation. 

She crickets like a hamster. 

He simplifies the lab-rug, it.

 

True public and true personal

doll-sized worries undo and

double-done did sacks. 

 

Roots are a-glowin’.

Those regal things, yo, 

make time flow through though.

 

Likes and doesn’t likes. 

Single being, living vein

models to the front of the fact. 

 

Fundamental absence. 

In the area, contact dialect soon,

things are fun.

 

 

 

To hear the poet read this poem, click here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Yes Function,

Thank you for you interest in our program.  We ask that you fill out this
application from, and that you mail it back to us by tomorrow.  Provided the
garden and its workshop hold steady, we’ll bestow unto you a freind, who’ll
derive his/her validity from the directors director’s director.  Should you become
too tolerant of our practices, your historical memory will be deleted, packaged,
and sent to those more apprecative, obvious forest people. 

The first dunce begins at the one o’clock hour.  Our caulk, either at snags or at
faith-duds, will be aligned with the planet’s notebook.  You should plan to attend,
if at al means possible.  We’re pulling for you.  Show us what you got!

sincerely,

Lee Sinseer 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To hear the poet read this poem, click here.

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