By Zosia Mosur
My panic grass and feverfew: panic ass and feather view. I
Played to your wishes; was always elitist. I,
List on a market future, what good marketing. I,
Am speaking British in the Airport, I pull it off. I
Wear Huge glasses, find a beaver, light and see your eye,
Am so moving, am so mobile, am so urgent ([?])
Aye! Gave my child four names: Mi-
Ne and Sestina and Another and Some-Other. Why?
Tell you bot-uh-nics, have you gibb-er-ish, Aye
Say, you're a woman and you prophet: Spy
My communism and your communism I
Smile with polite, smile/smile so polite.
Fly unto into and spy school, so cool I-
Ce so cool, so fresh, so so-so, you’re so wi-
Se so practical and impractical, crack spectacle I
Get annulled, I do annulling, it's a whatever-type-of thing, die
Together, lie together, eh, what-ev-ah’s got a ring. Bye!
To my lady and my baby, pregnant lady baby, buh-bye ([!])
Zosia Mosur is a 16-year-old poet from San Francisco, California. She is the creator of Gibberish Journal and a grand ol' man.