We Make Work
We make work
sweet we give hours
that we don't get back
we have trouble desks
and curtain rods (for beating)
we have muddy ears
and mittens with old
corn chowder in them
we are going to run
in a field full of snow
until the horizon bubbles
fists full of money
keep fantasies out
of this poem
we have ideas about
CAPITAL that we will
SHARE with you
in a LETTER
that we will
NEVER send.
sweet we give hours
that we don't get back
we have trouble desks
and curtain rods (for beating)
we have muddy ears
and mittens with old
corn chowder in them
we are going to run
in a field full of snow
until the horizon bubbles
fists full of money
keep fantasies out
of this poem
we have ideas about
CAPITAL that we will
SHARE with you
in a LETTER
that we will
NEVER send.
posted by Todd Colby at 9:42 AM
2 Comments:
You're making me work to read this poem. What are you trying to say? Anything? Oh, wait -- is this a flarf poem? Oh, that explains it. Thanks for sharing!
Flarf? Isn't that peanutbutter and marshmellow spread?
Whatever you say is what I'm trying to say beacuse you're already saying what I said. You're like a reminder of just how far I've come.
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