Remember, child,
do not forget again:
To every raven comes
a reckoning,
and to the maven,
magistrates.
As Guinea hens
oft illustrate in pens,
your wings will wither
slowly from this sin.
Asides? Keep them kettled.
Flamboyance is wanton.
just sit ‘n pen anthems
of blue/red threads inset
in the skin that you’ve numbed
with a flame.
You winsome, you don’t
but her eyes must have sparkled
when you mentioned the carving
you sculpt in the soap dish,
for the bugs in my mattress’s
brave escapades.
We need, lost our purchase
receipt in the hamper
washed for the gala
pressed and increasing
full count for the fruit-bats
the tree-limb bank branches
a surcharge, amoral
proclaimed infinitum
i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry
i’m sorry, i’m sorry
i’m sorry
Feste's Lute 