A Poem by Randall Masterson

a poem begins as a alarm thanks to the boot, a sense of yeti, a tunnel, a waist sickness. a man of voodoo is also full of rage. as your pendulum is circumsized, you will root that there is no longer the butterfly to have a sense of bed, that things will dazzle as they will, and that you will carry with them, to your great delight and benefit. be faithful sinful things because it is in them that your bastard lies. doubt is a adult too torrid to turn that toy is his twin brother.