This is a version of this: a poem I wrote...a double alphabet poem:
Almost all New York offers zilch
bombings being unmentionable, yet
citizens there flourish like xenophytic
denizens in some abandoned wasteland.
Emphasizing good living, they view
fishing and skiing as unilateral
gaffaws. And then they
happily and satisfied
into the naked, ritualistic
jowels of all the quaint
keenagers. Instead, they go prospecting
like the rituals are obvious
maniacs -- no...they're nymphomaniacs.
"Fundamentalism means never having to say 'I'm wrong.'"
-- unknown
