Horn Dog



Would you like a

corn dog

with mustard?


Or a shorn dog

all that long fur

long gone?


Well, I’m a horn dog

cheap cologne, soiled hand-me-downs

hanging on old bones


And you, oh pretty woman, ring

in my ragged soul

one thousand telephones


Col. Sheena of Pluckame


How can I possbily


in front of your photo?




 Saint cupcake delight

your knee perfect & right

twirling this awkward bum




Around & around ’til my

latest ambition is to be your

blooming lily-fetching knight




But what do

I do



Col. Sheena Johnson of Pluckame


I steal a picture

nail it to the wall

above a narrow bed




Now a monk lights

a candle

in a quaint little room




A portrait of heaven

lifts up his prayers

out of the gloom




But these words with

wings aflutter

fly up to whom?




None other than The Goddess

smoothly afloat

above Earth’s tombs


goddess bait


Yours truly



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