When I first submitted "Embracing Your Inner Shit Pile" at Foundling Review, it was simply the word "shit" repeated 500 times.
But the editors saw something of value through this very literal shit pile, and asked that I wipe away a few of these shits to see what would happen.
I thank them for playing with my shit. I thank them for allowing me to play with my shit.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit pile.
Happy week, y'all.
7 comments:
What a load of...Hang on, is that a buttercup?
Poet.
nice, j. very nice.
no poet here. you poet.
the smell of horse manure is one of my faves....up there with the smell of gasoline...i love pumping gas.
you said "pumping." heh heh. and "gas." heh heh heh.
You said "pumping gas."
but Mel, you are a poet!
HA! See, I'm not the only one that thinks so:-D
Bah!
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