Poem 3666

This is poem three thoussnd sic hundtrf sixty-six:

the snake in the grass will find it.  I hope it sitcks
and stones in his crawl and brings on constipation---

rather than stoop to his appropriation.

This poem is, by nature, an exexration,

tossed to his broken fangs for mastication.

 

Starward

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The poem's number, as of its posting, is subject, of course, to any further removals I might have going forward. 

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