That Awful Equation Of Occam's Easy Razor Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Warm and becoming a darling in the sink,
The more beautiful houses rises above me, the sea curling
Her lashes; and I think that I would like to be alone
To finish my drink;
And I would like to shower alone, and to be cursed alone:
I would like to raise my sword alone for my enemies;
And Sharon,
I would like super powerful spells for you and your daughter,
Sharon: How were you able to capture this life out amongst
The cornfields and the apple orchards
Before the goblins came and stolen away your little daughter
For her little adventure- and it was all a little fun,
And more than a little noteworthy, and in the morning I will
Love Diana, and she can take the form of a forest or of a
Tree, and I will still really love her, because she is a contacerous
Vixen: Diana is a muse killer, she is the vociferous black hole
Growing up like seventh grade science experiment in the
Middle of the spells of my garden;
And I said that I should live forever, but I shouldn’t really live
Forever; it is just that I should just buy a house and become the
Cadaver of a little boy in blue stockings, whose feet rise up in
The average rigamortis of songbirds;
And my mother may scold me, like the wife of bath leaving to
Make love the second knight along my wayward path,
But the days go along for a long, long ways;
The days go along, and my fingers are like the intelligent ballerinas
Of spiders, loving in their ways:
Sharon- You are more beautiful than Jodie Foster, and I can
Never speak Latin; but what are you doing now,
Sharon- Whatever it is, it has nothing at all to do with this poem,
But you are far more important than this poem, Sharon;
You are all of my hidden heart pieces, Sharon; and see how I survive,
And how I water by your misplaced elements,
And see how I get along through the awful wind tunnels of this
Cyborg world for you, muse, if only because I couldn’t ever
Figure out that awful equation of Occam’s easy razor.