Here are eleven new words for you to play with today.
papaya
clicks
torso
flipping
lunch
tear
hum-colored
pocket
toothpick
12:40
poems
If they capture your imagination, add your writing in the comments section below.
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LUNCH POEM #171
lunch clicks by,
a papaya and
a toothpick in
my pocket signal
poems like everything,
flipping 12:40 in the
flipping afternoon,
my torso ribs sore from
that hum-colored
pocket nazi futon
Jamie sold me,
fucked upon a thousand
times but I can’t seem
to tear myself away from it,
why *is* that?