by Aaron Eastley
Read a poem, whaduya get? Mist, rain, fog, bogs Leaves in puddles – anything wet – Water watering regret. Wet bats, wet rats, Drowned gophers, dripping dogs (Wet wolf-hounds, stuff like that) Don’t like dogs? Make it a cat. So long as it’s soaking, dripping with dew Ultra-moist moss on sycamore logs Darn it’s poetic, and it feels so true, Sickening? – Yes. But whatcanya do?
