A Poetry Reading

she lost her house in the Four Mile Canyon fire and
wondered if she could find a new couch in the Inner Ring.
The bastard was having a heart attack beyond the phone cord
length, such a lack of technology in the Science Museum,
appalling that a pronoun knows not from whence it came
amazing how the ripple of a whale skin is so elusive
to the Navy, and that a small Jewish house should only
have a roof of grass over which Sir will spend his evenings
sprinkled along the flower bed while the pie sprinkled
herself with blueberries to dress herself up for the
Queen.

I tried to capture the wide range of themes addressed in the event Twenty Poets in Two Minutes.  I cannot do any of them justice, or even perhaps represent them accurately.