5.

Our father, whose art
is heaven, how loud beam
thy name–

he has a beautiful
pussy. A wonder
of troubled flesh. Inside
you can hear our arguments beating

against our betterjudgement.
Armitage couldn't try

any harder. Our weapons
of mass
destruction

embed in our shock and awe. You writhe
at the discomfort of it. He wrote
that one too. Anytime WinterMute

thought about it, another window
would fall from the old house.

Sorry to wake you, she says.



=====


NEW!!!–Dirty Milk–reactive poem for microphone http://www.lewislacook.com/DirtyMilk/

http://www.lewislacook.com/

tubulence artist studio: http://turbulence.org/studios/lacook/index.html








__________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
Yahoo! SiteBuilder - Free, easy-to-use web site design software
http://sitebuilder.yahoo.com