a m p

new pain awakens you. its stamp/impresses in the form of cramp.

the lamprey sucks. the hamptons bask./do lamps when clamped on desk-edge ask/enlightenment of us? they don’t./they have no will; they have no won’t.

slow down the car. the exit ramp/says k o a, a place to camp,/to sample nature and relief/and tamp down stress and angst and grief./the scampering of squirrels calms/and wine and amped-up tunes are balms.

this launch has not achieved ignition/with syllaballic repetition/we therefore move to cut the crap/and bid the grampa take a nap.