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Mother's Little Killers

MOTHER’S LITTLE KILLERS She hates them, the unguent power Which sticks her fairy wings together Making impossible the ivory tower Of disinterested passion, the if and whether Of generic names, the ultimate aloneness. The honest answer is to unstick The loathsome epithets accompanying the mess Let her soul free with a lexographic brick As she goes on her desert train to limbo - Grant her freedom to ride into the dusk Without turning her into a soulless bimbo, Pills shedding the epigrammatic husk, Cavorting in the lunar satellite, A spaced monkey too drugged to fight

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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