This still makes me laugh. In 2002 I received one of those magnetic poetry kits as a Christmas present. In early 2003, over the course of a couple of months plus a couple of drunken parties with friends where noodling around with magnetic words was encouraged, the poem below took shape. 

soil bitter, bare, raining bulb bursts

after sweet seasons, elborate and green trowel thing

like a yellow luscious fruit tree, stop sleep

when a tranquil gorgeous vegetable tongue

rusts and protects the enormous iron blow sausage

still beneath one part of the repulsive blanket

though spring hides, puppy pants give off harsh wind

conditioned as a thousand faithful gardeners

raw ornaments shadowing tiny brown worms

show nature beating through languid flakes

they blister beneath a clump of sacred bee dirt;

why, death could house every delicate green gift