Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Poems and Prose #24: Woolen

Have you no decency?
No moral compass?
No qualms at all
with sins so suffixed?
I have a hunch
your eyes are buttressed
by your books and essays
and word-filled ruckus,
leaving you much like a
furnace gone ductless,
or, more aptly,
a preacher turned tongueless.

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