¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
a
fire!
afire,
his one
desire!
her name was hope
and her captors'
ire.
her golden hair
from air to he
so free she be
but soon transpires
a thievery!
with walls aflame
of loveless
fire
and daughter consumed
does father
inquire
of salt and sand—
his hands now
singed by molten
mire.
now his hands
hold nothing
as these visions
of strands a'gold
inspire.
and the all of she
so lovingly
does beg him to
retire.
he beg she see
that the all of he
still eyes
of his daughter,
eyer.
and the
fire
the
fire
grows ceaselessly
higher
and
higher—
he sighed as the
fire
grew nigh.

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
do hail
      thine
                  -:- inhalation -:-      
be       
-:- annihilation -:-                
frequently                
-:-      
             and
                      -:- overlook -:-
                         these
                         stony heights
    o’er waters
        swelling
                           earnestly
                                              -:-
    ­                                                and where
                                                    do i
                                 -:- undoubtedly -:-
shorn shy of     
-:- serendipity -:-           
-:-        
 do i
           among thy
           laminae
in   
-:- laminate -:-                  
-:- mahogany -:-                                          
-:-                                                              
this                                                               
-:- pastel -:-                                                     
mem’ry                                
stain amidst                                      
the tainted                                          
once a                              
daunting lee        
   -:-
           thine
-:- airy -:-  
brethren            
shook the limb            
dispersing
sap all            
on the sea              
-:-          
           and then
                       love’s leaf the
                                            moribund
                                                  descendent
                                    of
                              -:- adumbral -:-
              thee
   -:-
-:-

-:-
-:-
-:- see -:-
-:- tumble -:-
-:- t’ward -:-
-:- the -:-
-:-      -:-          ***’bling          -:-      -:-
-:-    ­                  -:- one  ,  the -:-                           -:-
-:-      -:-      -:- mummer -:-      -:-      -:-
of
-:- the -:-
-:- bumble -:-
-:- bee -:-
-:-       -:-

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
"yeah, okay,"
she says to me.
such reticent
acquiescence,
we?

you did it
and again,
my love, and—

as did i,
dear's eyes
to mine—

again?

delicately,
what falls to me,
a smile—deeper—

one so deep,
and I'll so hide

that her eyes
are but narrow lies
to mine.

and so i beg of thee,
my love,

once more
and then
some more

e'er
with love
my love will be!


~the beggar of eels
in mores

¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
a song of gallimaufry!                
   of that lively—                                                    
lonel­y street                                                           ­ 

a Troubadour a'play
his fingers clog at fret passé
                   as charming women bravely seek―――――

                              “Red rouge and diamond eyes of gray
                             this fair and mellow-mannered mare!”
                                    his brilliant eyes went spying (and
they stole the skies of May from there!)              

                  to spite the clement nightmare!
     of that pungent—
porter street                                                

the cleats of noble mounts
they pace the pleasance he recounts
                his smile and case lay wide and chic――――

                                   “Red felt, if you would be so kind,
                                              solicit further coin and bill!”
                                 his learn’ed ears went hearing (and
what ditty does remind him still?)                      

of the love and subtle thrill!
       of that gloom ick—
                         ridden street

a drunk man kinks apace
an eager look be on his face
                 in wayward want of his mystique―――――

                                         “Ready nigh my pick-n-anchor
                                            pick on of mutt-n-mutineer!”
                                       his gentle heart went jarring (as
did he of sob'ring rancor spear)                          

t’ward gameless                                                  

watersweet                                                     ­ 
of that lone yet-                                  
lively    
                                                                ­          scene                 . . .