Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Slush and Punishment: Like Machetes to My Ears

There once was a goose who lived in a coop.
A coop is a building
Or enclosure where
Fowl are kept
And must be cleaned regularly.
And the goose liked to swim and to honk and to poop.

This is not a poem. This is a death wish. Take my advice. If you write things like this, don’t include your return address—editors can be violent.

11 comments:

heidi said...

idea: you should take the worst submissions and make a book out of them titled: death slush or the like. that way, you can make some money and these poor people will finally be published! huh? onto something or what?

That's one clever little Yvonne said...

giggle, giggle.

LindaBudz said...

O. M. G.

Or as Miss Snark (rest her prickly soul) would have said: W. T. F.?

MerylF said...

Oh Mah GOD.

Best. Poem. EVER.

Colorado Writer said...

Dear dog.

Sarah Miller said...

Colorado Writer beat me to it. Dear dog indeed.

david elzey said...

Ignoring the middle section about the coop, I am dying to know where the author was taking this precious golden turd.

Rilla said...

Honk if you like poop...

Andy J Smith illustration said...

wow! hahahaha

ae said...

I could not clean a goose regularly, if ever. Even if I had to cook one.

literaticat said...

obviously I live in san francisco:

I read coop as, like, co-op.

as in "a coop is an association of persons who join together to carry on an economic activity of mutual benefit, in an egalitarian fashion."

and I wondered why the goose was a communist, and whether the author was pro or con.