Your Slick System Keeps You


That's right, Frank Sauce is best known as the Bourbon Machine

or Systemic Lords Born of Doors

"I'm bored," he wrote

"Crap," I thought, "Pure Crap"

I thought hard and shutdown
then cleaned off my screen

this evening you rumba and I eat salsa

Tomorrow that's all I think of for an hour; spend the whole day thinking of tomatoes, peppers and your Rumba, even if all that really happens is clicking and banging on machines

Cheap, Ugly Things


Frank's sauce is women's shoes envy

I'm writing you hopefully that counts for something.

I pulled lines out of my wallet, wads of paper. More paper than you can shake a stick at. Lines wrought in the nothing of the air that surrounds a half-drunken man in a bar with a quickened, bourboned mind. What I stole from you has been modified. It's has a confused history.

Hope you're well.

My twin is running around here somewhere and he's a nastier mother fucker than I am, I tell you
And that's sayin' something

at a poetry reading

upper limit poetry
lower limit testosterone-laced conversation about American Pie

quick its seagulls eyes

squiggly lines mean nothing

our basements are full of cheap, ugly things

Frank Sauce

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