Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Birthday: Iteration Two.

II.

I don't suffer from avian influenza.
In a grave of what it should be,
surprised at that window up,
it gives a shock.

We went over defense before the details
to expect that I close your belt
with a buckle, not your chair.

Inhumation, so that you deduct
who were privatized by the women
who most break from the inceptions

for position improvement of oneself--
still more--bury a body in a subway.

From in front of the first century, a pin
from the top that pants downward
in the same way when intended

so that there is more, and probably there is,
so that the latest lady's man-pin
raises it, or seven Indonesians.

No comments:

Post a Comment