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Patriot Generator Poem

The upskirts at the end of Rasmussen St.,
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Mole Poem #2

There are still lighthouses, at least a few, with beaver scraps on the floor: some undeniably useful tools. My eyes turned bad at looking…
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Deadpan Sight

You could see him over there; any one could do it.
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Latest

Lone Incumbent

She had three monitors, like all crustaceans,
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Nap Winter

There’s an uptick in aliens in the winter
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Ultrabus

They were all over the place:
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Spiral Hulu

*Spots paper referendum on the purpose of being Woke*
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I Am That Very Witch, Brah

Never staycation, rats are overblown
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