Poem Called Laphroaig (Dedicated.)

28 February 2013

His wedding boot was rupled
His pecker is set straight (like Wyatt)
Let us speck of knightage: knights collectively

Let us specke of the expansion but not the breach\
Like when a king eats a king I’ll have the bones for my garden
Please &
Fisticuffs.
I want to fickle you in our summery affliction of too much summer
His soul and his wife’s are actually like a sheet of gold leaf
Or corned Beef.

It is not necessary to Live and Think
But to bloat to the point of peccability
pêle-mêle plural pêle-mêle
th’affectionate tickling of painful grapes

m’aime comme l’idol formé de la form redoublée et derangement
m’aime

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