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:
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?
giggle, giggle.
O. M. G.
Or as Miss Snark (rest her prickly soul) would have said: W. T. F.?
Oh Mah GOD.
Best. Poem. EVER.
Dear dog.
Colorado Writer beat me to it. Dear dog indeed.
Ignoring the middle section about the coop, I am dying to know where the author was taking this precious golden turd.
Honk if you like poop...
wow! hahahaha
I could not clean a goose regularly, if ever. Even if I had to cook one.
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.
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