Poem About Money And A Baby

The impact delight


is duck season. Compressed air hums
's head looks funny chicks

... plummet.

collapsed as the clown in the sand ... it looks fun



we pull pull ever tread the paths with arrows static

smelling
dumb with desire
dried tits

If we throw cherish a moment of glory

healing without the smell of death
or early morning awakening or anonymities

without crowds jostle

without cliffs or jumps or gaps

or disgust

we own a life
and lost sight
let them drain

if we can be triggered
hunters
be air
be ... no duck