I woke up and when I went back to sleep I dreamt I was feeding cold meat to three wild turkeys, which may reflect the hangover I was accruing at the time, though it was from port not Wild Turkey. Wine always gives me the worst headaches, and port gives me the worst of all wines. But the stuff tastes like candy, what can I say.
Anyway, happy Armistice Day, folks.
Twitter Sonnet #445
Feminine oatmeal held the zucchini.
Warm grains glittered down the duck's feathered neck.
Monkey Face has a purse for her penny.
Fontaine trembles by the jungle gym wreck.
Inverse bondage barraged Saturday morn.
Germless lakes can't conceive a toad for shit.
Politic tea sets are pawned for old porn.
Ordinary humans have a small kit.
Gluten tendons deteriorate fast.
Dusk collapses on the mislaid milk stool.
Sailor Time takes knots from the ropey past
And softly loosens them around the bull.
Telegraphed cucumber dims to pickle.
Briny knowledge punctured the bicycle.