snotty face has argued that a sedimentary

sense glimpsed before Joan Houlihan cited

an a-hole's cries as a type


one thing preceding perhaps even causing

a six-month old infant shown behind a screen

is the exact moment when snotty face should agitate


when snotty face does not drive to connect

disparate images in a chronology

her brains become difficult to ignore


fuckin' greatness sifts and weighs all the way

through a collection of apparently disparate fun

to be lost when you believe Joan Houlihan


see a flat tire or a washed-out bridge resurface:

Where is snotty face now? does Joan Houlihan's

fuckin' greatness get where we’re going?

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