‘Twas lovely wandering summer evening parks.

‘Twas in Gelat’nousboulder¹ where I saw

trash all scattered ‘long the vomit lawn, accomp’nied by

globs o’ doggie shit & feel-good posters taped on tree

boughs. ¡How nice o’ nature, serving such important needs!

Surely tacky clip-art betters boring orchids. ¡Phhh!

Luckily I saw the man whose dog improved the park

with its priceless art. Enraptured, I went up to him,

carrying the excrement in question, & I said,

I said to him,

& he’s all like,

—¿You like it? I just whipped them up this morning in FrontPage. I think the kitten in the box saying, «Cat in winter box. Pondering meaning of life. ¿What’s it all mean, cat?» is the funniest part—.

I jammed them down the man’s esophagus;

& that’s why I’m in jail for 60 months.

Footnotes

• [1] Slogan: “Supports iambicish pentameter.”

I can’t even count how many objects you so hawk

From your gaping maw with stains of nameless substances.

How your papers darken with forgotten liquids; bruised

Apple cores turn brown & yellow, swarmed with plump li’l flies.

Still I smell that odor sharp like needles splashed in piss;

Still I feel the stickiness that never shall subside,

Like the ghost of cream that streams out from a phallus cocked.

I desire to roll in you all day, pristine refuse,

For it is in you I know I truly should reside.