Deadly Ivy     |   home bowel   |   haiku   |   (shaving in extremis)   |   Sonnet(a complaint)   |   Topf&Söhne   |   Symphony#41   |   Sweetheart-   |   Plea for Mercy   |   6.7   |   6.8   |   5.30(W.C.W.)   |   Rationale of Verse   |   Short Poems   |   (spontaneoulsy written)   |   6.6 (Elizabeth) Plea for Mercy Ye Muse! O sing no sorrowed tales, And Fates — please string with kinder thought. For my heart is napalmed like a peasant girl, And my soul is dry as bone, and cracking on my face. My dirtcaked pants serve to remind me of the past, Until they crack a little more, and splinter up as glass. My conic section’s alibi Hangs on December’s lullabies, And the darkened streets of disrepair Echo nightfall’s last and truest tear. Lie beside me once again, Please kiss me in the rain. For my soul is broke to pieces, And the cold is setting in.