Skunk Story

He said I saw this skunk roll on the balls of an elliptical
Downbeach where wheeled it down
this downy flare I  remember this story for shit without

stippling the letters ever after in asterisks clawing the bland sand.
Shore birds, sure. My mother was one,  as I am a hamper
for my own swooping devices still-new
to this type of story, to the particular listening it requires.

He said His beard was clouds while it rained /t’was dawn noir

Tell me about it, mephitis
over black coffee in the black dark.

The story goes
ongoing says I’m not remembering it for Shit
because continuous was the pulsing rain / training his pussyskunk stamp-
ing sent to me in the black dark I got this, Charlie

I got driftwood & liftwood & grifters giving me heads
up. Look at the way weeds were punctilious & rampant
An old land-escape by way of skunking knitted with
froth long over due you.

I’m wearing baggy chords, placeholders. I hear everything
via your name on chain.

Aught shunt it down, aught to.

Pore me on the beach / A whack at what

we asterisked / recede

Tails, days, tip inversed

a stripe flipping us off

Taking ugly pictures

of eachother’s legs

and white rind round

flies overfire /

it plinks it plinks

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