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Consider How the Swan Lifts Up His Wings

Consider How the Swan Lifts Up His Wings Consider how the swan lifts up his wings Above his pinion shape while gliding on The River Thames at Windsor.  Athelings Were never quite so handsome in the dawn Of England’s whiteless history (so full Of scarlet...

Linda Meant Beautiful

Linda Meant Beautiful Nostalgia is an ivory-silk bride’s dress From long ago locked sternly in amber. This type of wistfulness protects that tress You stole and treasure because the camber Of such dejection is extreme beyond Pink sentiment, especially if slipped...

I Have a Fiend

I Have a Fiend I have a fiend who sneaks around my brain. At times he flickers like a ghost who burned In hell a while but now is just a stain, A vile aurora borealis turned To haunting in dark upper Arctic airs. More usually unfurlings of his black Light...

Feline Thoughts on Pedigree

Feline Thoughts on Pedigree The English, as usual not nonplussed By foreign aristocracy, impressed No, not at all by noble, upper crust, Unbishoped Talleyrand, were not hard pressed To sneer at Duc de Biron.  After all, Destesting frog and wog, Brits would snigger At...

It’s Good We Have No Soul Inside Us

It’s Good We Have No Soul Inside Us It’s good we have no soul inside us.  What A crowd there’d be if it were otherwise. Each capillary has a megawatt Of passion in its tiny tunnel.  Cries Of pumping silence pulse along our veins– And arteries...