Shortest Poem Ever

Is?
‘Tis!

A Holiday Poem

Strolling the snowy streets, her and me,
My gaze falls about and what do I see?

Lights and shit.

Ode to Solar Inspiration upon Individual Leisure

The sun
Is fun.

Unique Father's Day Gift

For the dad who has everything, a poem about places in Michigan:


Fruitport, Westnedge, Mackinac,
Highway 6 and west Paw Paw.
Cheboygan and the Dairy Queen;
Pier Marquette and Kaline’s spleen.

Mona Lake, I-94,
Tekonsha and the eastern shore.
The woods where Nugent finds his bliss,
The rest stop where I took a piss.

Eastmanville, a Cloud called Saint,
Cheboygan and Jeff Daniels’taint.
Farmington and Manitou;
Norton Shores and ol’ Moo U.

Assorted creeks, the Upper Pen;
Motown and the Lion’s Den.
Saginaw, home of the Gears;
Paradise; Bob Seger’s ears.

Emily Dickinson and Andy Sipowicz visit Boston

“Copley is a veritable ruby, lathed in restaurants, drawing me as a clasp secures.”

“Clasp this.”

“Oh my! Would food not you partake at present? Then perhaps Fenway beckons.”

“I wouldn’t go to that craphole if you lined up shots with your t*ts.”

“Where then—St. Charles in its spotted splendor?”

“Sure. And after I p*** in that toilet, what then?”

“Forest Hills, my good man, as yea matches beauty to the wreckage of solitary lives.”

“Sounds like a riot. Walking on dead guys. Why don’t we find a pool hall in Formaggio and ask a couple of punk locals to step outside?”

“Violence is purple, killing my soul! The sun and forest know but an adder’s tongue.”

“Uh, sure thing, genius. If it helps, I’m sure the guys in the pool hall will give you something to tongue.”

“Malevolence! Your boggy lack of cordiality welts in me the sadness of distant memory!”

“Does that mean you want to do it?”

“Sir! Your utter crudeness…uh, actually, OK sure.”