Do NOT enquire regarding the title.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXI)


O rain!  I'd plans lo, in the werks--t'avail
Me of the naked woods in tour fr'intents
Of violets.  That is lost as I mull thence
The joys of sitting on the stoop's detail
Jist to, erm, breathe.  And lo, in sheer betrayl
To write THAT kills the chance as twere, as hence
Those priceless minutes are most strangely whence
I canna say, lost--more in tow--sans bail.
Yes.  It is freaky.  Why'd my earring, fer
All that, fly off?!  Just where I'd rush out to
That spot and settle me to breathe in tour,
Lo, how I spent it praying, and searching too.
Rain slipped off on the wings of gloaming, poor
As all MY dreams.  And I was laughing.  You?

24Mar19c

What?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXXXIII)


So, listen to the furnace, rain t'avail
Beyond, where dark night shrouds what I'd from thence
Feign nestle in, just marching with a sense
Of all we cherished for a minute, pale
Sheer lamplight glaring on the weeds' detail
As if I was but dreaming, sleepers hence
Half paused to hear me rustling for intents
Through darkened rooms, and I can't e'en exhale.
They're all tucked up where last night I as twere
Was first in bed cuz they came back late, to
Be up into the wee hours, I in tour
As late as wont, like tis my schedule through
The years, and crazy as tis rather poor;
And dawn will come when I'm at work.  What's new?

07Oct18b