when i caught you bad
languaging my rights
the child held to tight
and now!
inside i embedded you designs
she innocent, he her child
and all you do
is make us loose
nothings tight in this title
i am afraid
no needs left
the period and the hurt
to get up to the larks
song birds and fate
this is to let who know? that letter is a poem
described,
those measures
and volumes of essayist phone called
langston and curfews
grown on jazz
borrow irish ink