Word Salsa #562

There’s a country full of beer, hand-brewed, for a corn and present your gate from the tears of fig leaves, rememory of my head, & if I had to my eye to a little fishy thing, even care. Adults who disliked all those who disliked all my father’s forehead, part of their lips While shoving a life similarly displayed for awhile!

We could jump and haul in charge & I’ve got two passing the incision. Before the frozen in them.
One muttering I tried on!

vi la frontera, the border, their games!


Previous Next

Is this a good poem? Help us find the best of Word Salsa!