WILBUR WOOD
I’m like
throwin’ fuckin’ junk
scraping the sides of the plate
fluttering across broken winged
accumulating insults
& lounging in stale air
I’m the junkballer
& from a few feet away
I look easy to hit
but, friend, understand
that my shit explodes
BOOM!
& it sure as hell ain’t where you thought it’d be
when you started that swing
& yr fury fans the air impotent
while my junk falls behind you, immaculate
[Bill]
