Your Slick System Keeps You

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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

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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

again
at a poetry reading

upper limit poetry
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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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