Feste's Lute

Foci

After we met,
I swore “eclipse”
would never
darken these lines.
I suspect my vow
is suspect.
For this round
I’m circumspect.
That you were
never the mean.
On average,
that’s what I meant.

Scornful Forms

A poem posing as a ruckus, ¹
a sonnet boldly staging brawls,
our traumas trussed up elegiac,
the villain of the villanelle is all.

readingwritingandarithmetic replied to your post: He does what he does. I do what I do. Never the…

They should!

Ah, but the centre cannot hold.

Either for the twain to meet (which I know you didn’t mean). Or for improvements. ;)

So mere anarchy is loosed upon the algorithm.

He does what he does. I do what I do. Never the twain shall meet.

I’m just saying, Tumblr, fix your recommendation engine…

Water’s Weight

Never darken meanings,
though the times might
stretch your neck.

For faces, fate and fingers,
face and fate relate, align.

Down it till they found,
and now, of course, it founders.
All the fondest matters faint.

Honestly, I never
found you to my water’s
weight or taste,
but grateful teeth
survey you.
Since I’ve found you…
can’t relate.

When I read
the penny dreadfuls
I suspected.

Caduceus

Serpents taunting,
mercury unbinds
the silver spheres
that populate her vines.
Sconces twisted,
candles on their sides,
baubles rob
her faint reserves of time.

Grim

Glasses bent
and tumblers
in the drink,
sinking with
abrasive appliqués.
Attention spent
on petty frames
and fickle games
that add their worth
in cents.
Brooding, sick,
silken thick,
braided tendrils twist
around your neck.