Tuesday, December 09, 2008

And there was Too for Whoo

There were wanted and needed or had
Maybe listed if thought of and said

I do not write a letter to Santa or you --I write letters to authors and Sinatras
make cookies with fruit and ginger to give to Fruits and Ginger.

Anyone'll fuck a baker.
Star Fuckers will fuck a Maker.

Someone once told me that.
Once, someone told her that I had made it with whoo.
Quippy conversation, we were protean,
one missed meeting and a Lesbian drew conclusions without cunctation or substantiation.

Molly will not climb on les genoux de santa.
No chuchotement of parfume or laughter.
I won't even have to d├ęsir un visage je sais ou un scarecrow brain.


I am only do do do doing and
no wish no want no lists no Ella Fitzgerald singing haunted hearts into iPods.

3 Comments:

Anonymous Queen Diamond said...

Not on les genoux de Claus because
the beauteous one
had had some fun
and married the son of a gun
who disguised his flaws
in the form of a run
in her nylons, and the sun shone
on the Sirens and their claws
in the land where the laws
were as honey to the lips of Molly,
good golly.

1:39 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Let me in
let me in
Gin!
I win!
You sin!
Has been?
No win.
Nothin'

2:25 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

sal

es

bizarre

pero

bastante

"Et, O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

Twit twit twit
Jug jug jug jug jug jug
So rudely forc'd. 205
Tereu"


rico

11:52 AM  

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