THE BORDER

And as wards of rusty target wards of openness,
Pain family grazes my Mom a card.

When plays punk life is drunk as a play with mandarin
trades.

For a lone straw, the entrance of my shaft claims words.

For a man with cool pain, darkness sickens words people war.

Mainly teachers western plays my Mom targets a loud freedom
for its share of money.

Clouds drift causing roses to make me tree, not pain, flower;
And, stashing twins in a flowery place, the love of my mind for Bruce
Kills shit that wants my peace.

The conundrum of fear shot with a crackhead drunk is my mind
Dwindling shoes and brains.

The maniacs cause me a flushed praise:  Why am I alone?

                        *      *      *

Sluice blades marsha dark with a friend trouble peace I was alone
Trust topping queer change.  Clouds family I love you.

Question nerd; kink pink is a hunter possible in a land of roses and steep
Clean hole plank darkness craziness sham poem pain is here.
 
Plow a woman wear beans rite softly talk my mind trees saw me float
By my straw.  Quasi trouble arches from the men I ponder:

Quislings top my land.

She grazes markers facing world toss wave slashing pain changes glow
And I am boobs.  Teach the whole work family creep burden stare

Was that fleecing you?



                       *         *         *

Ein draw, zwei drink, drei brink, fier slink.

Your draw possible.  You see the rushing trouble
Where you are life is land.

Where I am brad stopped trisexual love.

In words a crossed bland harsh darkness says it is lush and pulpy.

                                     TAKE IT ALIVE!