Poems by Brian Builta

Pat Murphy’s Auto Service

You go in for a brake squeak and the catastrophic fizz begins…
Read More
Finicky

No to the gobsmacked buffoon who kept raining on us. No to the peach pit stuck in the ant hill hole.
Read More
D. C.

We drive Texas, Arkansas, Tennesse and Virginia to deposit you in your new life
Read More
Two Monks

two monks walk a muddy road
Read More
O, Citalopram

Thanks to you my meathead is better than it was but not as good as it used to be.
Read More
Touch a Blunder

The suck you lent my lobe sent a shiver across my jonquils
Read More

Enter your email below to receive updates.

Subscribe