Word Glimpses

The Aleutians is an illusion
to disparate desperate folks
waiting for meals on wheels
Can't tell Honolulu from Hollow Nunu
incessed with insects
hurrying and scurrying
around if not aground
he shoos them with his shoes
grinds them to a miserable pulp,
then phones the local news.
This poem is below the level of blow
I'm crying while trying and buying a frying pan, but I am dying.

closed january 12