And now...by special request of Matt...my old poem:
WOODPECKER
He
Hangs around
In trees all day
Making those toy machine-gun sounds
Poppity-popping the succulent ants,
Red and black,
That flee along canyons
In the weathered bark like
Residents of some sci-fi
Town running madly down
Crowded boulevards
Escaping the
Wrath of
Godzilla.
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Well...this silly blog doesn't allow me to shape my poem to make it look more like a woodpecker, but I think you get the general idea.
ReplyDeleteThat's one of the only problems I have with the Blogger website, the fact that editing your files the way you want isn't entirely possible. Maybe I should write and complain, or would that make me completely and overly anal?
ReplyDelete