Image by Ivan Vicencio

It was Lo in the morning? No.
It was high in the morning, higher
still in the afternoon, chasing butterflies’
reflections, the higher hire of his lowing.

His ass in jail, he put a spin, spun a tail
that followed him right up his end.
His story makes me pukenlaugh.
He stole my this, he killed my that
What bull! That stupid, stuffy cow.

Of all my men, he was the leastest
blindest, thickest, soaring-boringest,
my On The Road toad.
He didn’t take much time to kill
mom, the man and him then us.


Lynn Hoffman is from Brooklyn and lives in Philadelphia. He is the author of The Short Course In Beer. He leads wine and beer tastings, but most of the time he just loafs and fishes.

Back To Issue #34

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