A coddler's cast of silken doves
A comedy of luck
A script both crass and bold at once
Held up by a crust
A séance in a boney yard
Typed novels in the dust
In a font that only I could read
My illegible front
Adieu my first born
I drowned him in a pond
His chubby little arms
They were the only things I loved
So I cut them off
A rankled, fractal, melody
Of kant, and love, and death
I've lied and I've said the same things again
My ubiquitous theft