Refusing to leave, this poem was extracted from the basement by a Swat team, heavily gassed and tazed into submission:
The green cheeks on the tart apple tree
are showing a blush of red
as if
the grinning tree next door
said
Psst! I'm feeling so elated
that we two pollinated
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About Me
- roberto kiam borderlineartist@gmail.com
- I live in a quaint, little town, plagued with the specter of speculation and commerce. I am trailer trash,with wishes for good dishes. I shoulda died long ago, but like a rescue dog, didn't. I am indescribably scattered. I speak three languages. I walk a tenuously, true path. I am lucky. For myself, for others. God, it is said, protects orphans, widows and the innocent.
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