Found nailed to the bathroom door in one of my favorite bars in the whole wide world: possibly the worst poem ever written.
136.
Vast instep
of manifest destiny
as a vamp is played
moves forward
across the country
increasing readership
of an existential light.
Inveigled
vellum thrills
like a grasp of grapes,
constricted
by the totemic.
Come by tonight
before the harbinger
gets to us in an emprise,
then and there there is
no turning back
from the armistice.
—–
The writer signed it but I’ll spare her the embarrassment here…
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