Jonathan Finch
Summer came and went with a swish,
autumn appled and peared.
I fished for strawberry seeds
and drowned in a loose luck’s wonder wonderfully snared.
These meaningless words that are technically wise
in an easy kind of way
are merely substantial subterfuge
so why wind my thoughts in a cocky play
when rage has reason for running amok
in the broadening confines where lecheries fuck?
