Pyromancy
April 14, 2012 in Wordsmoker Poetry
Collect a wreathe of string, lover.
Among the friends of Oxford Satan
and Harvard Bum Fuck
you will need
casual busness attire.
A place to buy off
a master to suckle respect.
Your nest will be bird
to amend what to say with
irrelevant little adjectives
easy to sweep a smile
to the ground
–ground to feral
so wrong to laugh
secretly hating them all.
A joke that survives
fondness to life
encouraging
to return
the heat.
