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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Form poetry

Just An Exercise

keeping in practice

Always blaming,

callously damning

every fictitious gaffe.

Heralding insistent jerks,

kissing lame malcontents

needlessly. Only

performing queer residual

shifts to unite

various wild xenophobes.

Your zen?

 

Zealously you x-ray wanton

vidalias until, tired sighs

remain quiet. Peering

over neon mountains, losing

kindness just inside

heaven. Golden flame escapes

dangling carafe before

ascent.

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