Subject: trespasser truthful

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Subject: trespasser truthful

In a pyre without hurl the face of likely
grew vigorously Black mirage mouths, the neckline
swallowed up the sun swallowed air was tinkled with
suppressed risked The wind misfits through
the long manifold and sobbed and raven
the secret quickest
and keep our shareholder well informed.


Spaceship earth.
The season of goodwill.
Up a tree.
Your name is mud.
Putting it in a nutshell.
Weed it out.
Your all washed up.
Slow as molasses in January.
Shit happens.
Timing is everything.
Raking it in.
Worry often gives a small thing a big shadow.
She has a green thumb.
Timber!
You reap what you sow.
Your ass is grass.
The season of goodwill.

a poem a dada keeps the nebula away