I’m too lazy to write a post so here is the new poem by Tess Kincaid … she’s not quite right in the head you know … she lives in Ohio … somebody has to …

I’m too vain to cry much;
my sniffs hide mute

behind strands of my hair,
and layers of waterproof mascara.

With a random hanky-snort,
mine foghorns out a cute G,

not all loud and garble-monster,
like a prehistoric disposer.

I wonder what Matt Damon’s
sounds like, leghorn-straight,

squared off at the end
like Bob Hope’s.

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