Friday, 21 December 2012

Cosmonaut Empurples With Chopstick Aerials

I eat poetry,
It tastes like paper.
Some sentimental poetry tastes like cards.
Blank poetry is good for dieting.
With haiku, you eat one,
then, inevitably, want another one an hour later.

Nonsense poetry, I drink with spoons.
And spoons, like forks, taste moose.