June Poem 22

The weight event was hosted

By the big red lips. It seemed,

The joint had not caused this.

 

The Baptist Church

On Saturday style umbrella

Complete with lumberyard.

A mother-daughter

Glasses frame and a mustache tree.

The stock along with a pair of dreams.

 

 

Three men now have

Their hats in rumbles

Of petal blood.

They were honored,

Feather trim, heart shaped.

And nights passed.

 

An older woman ran out

From among the mushrooms.

She tried to poke so long

For my eyes. I nearly forgot

Their different situations.

 

Jerod Thompson,

The crispy wearing man,

Was relearning the laws of physics

As it blinked paintbrushes in his hands.

 

Stan had the field

So he could be fed

On the tall grass when

There was no pizza party.

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