put your knock-knock jokes in order
death sits at his kitchen table, eating lucky charms and reading the dictionary.
telephone rings. who's there? knock-knock? I can't even converse with someone so disorganized.
someone's left a four-leaf clover on his pillow. it will probably wind up as green crumbs at the bottom of his bedsheets.
strangled by strawberries, aaron dreamed I died in a pile of tomatoes.
once upon a time there was a fantastic little sphere of green and blue and some other variations of similar shades. one day someone noticed it was on a collision course with Doom's gasoline-monger automobile which was chugging along on the rickety railroad ties some prisoner of war did a half-ass job building seventy billion years ago. she mentioned this to someone else. they held a conference. wrote a paper. inspired bad art and worse poetry. made up long names to trap the feelings of the situation in times new roman. then they wore ties and discussed their fresh phrases behind podiums. and they slept well at night.
I must be in france reading rilke and drinking petit cafés before this time next year or I will only have a concave shape of mush attached to my neck because my mind will surely be lost.
telephone rings. who's there? knock-knock? I can't even converse with someone so disorganized.
someone's left a four-leaf clover on his pillow. it will probably wind up as green crumbs at the bottom of his bedsheets.
strangled by strawberries, aaron dreamed I died in a pile of tomatoes.
once upon a time there was a fantastic little sphere of green and blue and some other variations of similar shades. one day someone noticed it was on a collision course with Doom's gasoline-monger automobile which was chugging along on the rickety railroad ties some prisoner of war did a half-ass job building seventy billion years ago. she mentioned this to someone else. they held a conference. wrote a paper. inspired bad art and worse poetry. made up long names to trap the feelings of the situation in times new roman. then they wore ties and discussed their fresh phrases behind podiums. and they slept well at night.
I must be in france reading rilke and drinking petit cafés before this time next year or I will only have a concave shape of mush attached to my neck because my mind will surely be lost.