Praise be punctuation
At the end of sentences
At least you could do
Something
To give us a break
Would be so kind
If you wouldn’t mind
Split up a series
To parse makes us weary
Appositives pop
Exclamations fly
In the face of
The moon
There’s one good eye
Lash
Us with parentheses
Make a bludgeon
Of the question
Of intended meaning
Must we wonder
How rhythm suffers

Praise be, punctuation!
At the end of sentences,
At least, you could do
Something.
To give us a break,
Would be so kind.
If you wouldn’t mind,
Split up a series.
To parse, makes us weary.
Appositives pop.
Exclamations fly!
In the face of
The moon,
There’s one good eye.
Lash
Us with parentheses!
Make a bludgeon
Of the question.
Of intended meaning,
Must we wonder?
How rhythm suffers!

When I was young and bold and strong,
Oh, right was right, and wrong was wrong!
My plume on high, my flag unfurled,
I rode away to right the world.
"Come out, you dogs, and fight!" said I,
And wept there was but once to die.

But I am old; and good and bad
Are woven in a crazy plaid.
I sit and say, "The world is so;
And he is wise who lets it go.
A battle lost, a battle won--
The difference is small, my son."

Inertia rides and riddles me;
The which is called Philosophy.

Bad apple,
come spoil my bunch.
I've got a hunch
that you're a little sweet
and sour.
Cold's the wind
and late's the hour.
Let's soften together.

One good apple's all I ask.
I will not stoop or stretch.
Neither will I pay for it,
though I'm a starving wretch.

I will stand beneath the tree
and to it, gently call.
I will open up my arms
and hope the right one falls.

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

You can listen
to the news,
you can express
your views,
you can point your toes
when you dance,
but the future, my friend
will unroll like a scroll
and there won’t be
a thing there by chance.

There are things
that you hear,
there are things
that you fear,
there are demons
inhabiting dreams;
but events that unfold,
or so I’ve been told,
are not the results
of man’s schemes.

So retire your talk
and just go for a walk,
look up at the stars overhead,
and be thankful that you
have no claim on the view,
and then, laugh, be happy,
go to bed.

Prodding morsels,
blissfully wasting away,
a delicious trance.