On Thousands squared add Tens then Sevens score
Will the Curry-World know what City's Fruit crave
Again-and-Again their Mint Hands adore
Thus clean the River's Edge for their Bright Knave
This all I know. Let your Charm do the rest
Far beyond Bloated your Experience spare
Where Mongers conjure; And Living Stunts test
The Juice such Plum flavours most Fingers there
The Artist speaks. Yet not from my Groaned Hand
Bejewelled by Bullies for my own East
Though Offers apply; Yet apply on Sand
Will browse Sentiments at the very least.
So the Poets live. By Paints and Notes dare
Till then, Flesh-Poet, my Heart sees you there.