Source: Wikipedia; Sculptor Hermon Atkins MacNeil
bunch your words up and throw ’em in a satchel
and see if they mean fuck all after you’ve ridden across the plains
pull the letters out one-by-one to see if words gel
or whether what spills out is a wicked mass of tangled confusion
tangles blurted like a Tourette’s sufferer with a machine gun stutter
By B Gourley in poem, Poetry, words on October 23, 2016.
