Down my twisted spiral, she descends;
I place her soft,
angelic form against my
rack– puncturing skin; she bleeds.
We
exchange loving looks, mine more hateful
with a
bittersweet charm.
Moan Lisa, USA
i'm in the process of working
through a new book,
and have my poetry so far
available for download
"Psychiatric Ward"
by Moan Lisa:
and my older books are here:
otherwise i'm on temporary
hiatus from mail art due to postage costs, but i should
eventually get back in the groove and get replies out to
folks who have sent me mail.
take care friends.
Moan Lisa
PLEASE DON’T TOUCH
ART IS DEAD
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