"ablative" poems
1741
That it will never come again
Is what makes life so sweet.
Believing what we don’t believe
Does not exhilarate.
That if it be, it be at best
An ablative estate—
This instigates an appetite
Precisely opposite.
7.4k
1744
The joy that has no stem no core,
Nor seed that we can sow,
Is edible to longing.
But ablative to show.
By fundamental palates
Those products are preferred
Impregnable to transit
And patented by pod.
2k
Frequent & repeated lines of questioning,
not limited to frequent and repeated running,
O,
your honor,
how wyd one do in the dog days should so futile an expense be paid.
Often,
though not often enough
(and
entirely too often,)
it seems
to be
repeated
to be
repeated the sayings of the elderly,
but I say,
among others,
RUN!
collapse into the whole of everything else.
Run not in the ablative sense,
but inwardly.
The Dog Days are days in the truest meaning,
Don't Hold Me To That!!!
for this will pass,
as will those and that.
That rustling will never cease
and should it,
I fear the worst.
From this cries a home
A HOME!
for want of all.
Take this, Take me, whole, unbroken, beyond dog days and frequent and repeated sayings & questions. Take me home.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 8:12 PM UTC