Le Petit Prince — Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Surely not small ’nuff
to warrant a whole novel
writ in romance tongue.
Le Petit Prince — Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Surely not small ’nuff
to warrant a whole novel
writ in romance tongue.
I am saving the cat’s turds
bundled, little bricks of shit
entombed in the extra freezer
awaiting further instruction.
Okay. One minute. Then bed. Three minutes. No. One minute. No. Three minutes. Okay. Two minutes. No. Three minutes. Fine. Three minutes. Five minutes. No. Five minutes. No. Three minutes. No. One minute. Okay. Good. We’re going down. One minute. Can I eat it? What? Can I eat it? Sure. Chomp.
man seeking an aphorism — a catchy little chestnut to widen some eyes to giggle in the folds of a dress, a phrase that admits defeat and cringes at sympathy. a subject line that says i am part of it now, i am the goat eating from my own salty palm — the old lump [...]
i want a cat who can play the drums all day long the cat’s up in his room playing the drums perfecting his craft, or better yet a cat that can waterski when the gang’s all here on a long summer dock admiring my waterskiing cat. i want my cat to make it big broadway, [...]