Not a poem.
I traded most of my poetry to these punks for a copy of one of their split EPs. They’re going to publish it in some magazine based out of Chicago.
What this means is that my favorite poems are no longer physically in my hands.
What this means is that I’m going to be writing more, in order to get more poems physically in my grip.
Just letting whoever cares or it still there know.
Bananagram (random thought)
The cops ’round here don’t like me
’cause my head’s always on fire, and
the cops ’round here don’t like me
’cause it’s their civic duty
to put me out.
Upside down. 