T. M. Shorewick’s Friend, Freddy Feelingeeny, Asked if Shorewick Might Publish One of His Poems. Shorewick Said Why Not…Here it is:

Holy holes
Muddled puddle
Goals
Which settle
Where
I sit
On your 
Snitty fit
One stinks
The other slushes
Anyone blinks
Into the bushes
So I wipe
My soul
Then snipe
At your holy role