Doze Twinty Wurds
The symbol of an epiphany was lost
in the brackish filled grail of a pregnant
The antidote for the privities illusion was
To kiss the exalted orb—covered in visqueen,
That hovered above the shambles of an
Early, green poison filled season—complete with
An adverse averse allegory that meandered about
On its own volition…fluttering to some place in Scotland
A conducive pause of time diminished
the illusion forever and….
the cat and the horse morphed into a trencherman
and I never partied there again….
For April, May, and June and those twinty wurds
© 2008 Bubby
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