We all live underground here on Planet Dirt.
Don’t want to show our faces.
We like to hide in holes,
Where all questions have the same answer.
Roaming the tunnels through roots and rock,
Sniffing the ass of the one in front.
This is what we like to do.
Kings of the Rodents, that’s us!
We’re #1!
April 2006
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1 comment:
I love this poem! Worthy of Kafka. If, as I suggest in the inch worm poem, light shined for eons, awaiting the evolution of eyes, the reverse may be horribly true: denied light, the eyes go out, our only guide our noses up the assholes in front of us.
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