Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Down where it's batter batter dog
in the snarky pluff, the langy way
darkened to the smits
and driven to the may.

I'm in my curled top,
a little slip of knot
and I only gots to endure
the blister taught,
lay it out in wait.
Grown up with
a pattle,

all my life I goes
to envisioning that hefty
snake ya gets devoured on,
it's eating holes
straight through
your soul.

I gets a little light,
you gets the pitchest dark.
It sifts, it folds, it flays ya up
nice.

I laugh, yes, I laugh
how will you survive.

Fun to read but not funny. Before reading your note I thought it a bit "Carroll-ish." jim

I gotta love an Alice.
Thanks much, jim

I do admit to having it on the mind, but it was sort of a half awake poem this early am.