By Allen Ginsberg
That tree said
     I don't like that white car under me,
               it smells gasoline
That other tree next to it said
     O you're always complaining
          you're a neurotic
       you can see by the way you're bent over.
No comments:
Post a Comment
If you include links in your comment the whole comment will likely be deleted as spam. You have been warned! Otherwise, dialoguing with these poems is encouraged.