a coin I am the not-iguana. the gulliver. oh mainly what I do I’m a this. This is poetry. Let us be

When the whatnot I am am I I am I I am am I primarily occupations and hatwear.
Whatear war heat at raw he wet hare. So it can so it can

I hear the drunken pipe of Trungpa, Sanity! O Xanitty! More oh make us make
us more of that one please, of sanity. When making make to make few with

unnecessary labors earth is is whatever is the mind it is, so sue. It is.
So sue. I am bad at drawing clear lines. Which name is spelled this way?
Blind in the

hand about all the mess of which is he Mr. Obama when he talks about Islam?
is he the Democrat or head of State? Father? Fox? Hen? What’s that sound
that bird look like, a engine?

Not like humming along, you know you grow when you listen. I remember
asking for a father sometimes. So I notice it. Some bold letter

speechwords, oh finally admits the bold typeface all caps wake up
america!!! speechwords when was baseballs ago sure the chain dis dust the
post is pearls

past, no man lives in my old movies, where then do we pray when Caesar was
little before? Sanity, we are myriad and small and open at birth to these.

— Alan Mudd

Alan Mudd is editor at LuNaMoPoLiS in Boulder.

Send poetry submissions of 250 words or fewer to poetry@boulderweekly.com. 

Poets will be invited to read their published work at 8 p.m. on Thursday, March 26 at an event hosted by Starwater, 4949 Broadway, Suite 117, Boulder.