The Agent.

February 5, 2009 at 6:56 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 14 Comments
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“various assorted ratbaggery,” he mumbles

his lips moving between smile and snarl,

woof up the curve of his spine it threw the back of his head

like some shaman troll’s horns slam fire spells.

“woof,” is this one for shearing? Or eating or just looking cute?

what did Carl say again? about the fictional insane

as some form of security stored in your jeans.


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