Crazy April

Where is the ten-year
they get moldy schools
valedictorian? Do they work hard,
or gnash Kela
hatches in front of the belts?
I am a poor writer,
forgotten woman, but I do not
no one's man's submissive.
I may have these wise,
or stupid,
red selfish ends.
Tao often my skull wall,
I will no
sense wheat. Then it is always
the hardest, when the day
the second after the ache sick
in my head. Is this this
our common numbing
life? Where is the red
the wire end, where is the happy
dog rotating her.
Crazy April knocking
May the gates, and in the air
hovering just rain or sleet.