Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Nineteen Spring 2009 |
One Bib Installation Travis Kellogg Humbled on most gawldy enforced recipient, "police-state irate," the bed-ridden template mumbled, "jump start his heart," with a col-cocked Semian fart white gold on the digit, ink midgets' back-lat pressed kingdom in blinks much closer to the lamp-light, he thinks, and does like the toaster. Corrective gloves locked in the cellar, he's and odd feller airing the stench of cod, all welled up her IV's help me see the fish crawling up the ivy good riddence might we stash 'em in my 5th pocket along with the nickel, umpired, fresh-vased, taste the wish. |
About Travis Kellogg |