The wiry countenance
Of the elder leadman
Had no certain gloom
Yet neither the idealist's vigor
...
My companion
Or enemy?
You shuffle along the corridor
Your eyes, they offer me
...
On tempest night
Or brighter evening,
I assailed your fundaments
In a mansio on the road out of Rome
...
The wuther, from crevice it bellows
A dialect I entertained
from every hollow
...
He've no compunctious
Remedy
The rimes of four or five
Beget the redding
...
A perversion distraught
Caught among eye and carried
By mouth, an entertainment
of the impermissible
...
In this moment I am drying myself,
I made my home in the sea.
Of peril I knew nothing.
I gasped,
...
If I were to throw my words
to the wind.
Would they flutter in eloquence?
Convulse in dubious vulgarity?
...
Schemes of wicked women.
Forestalling their fate.
Capricious their vision.
Should we consider
...