Although of my poems you are, it is true,
the onlie begetter,
I fear that my verses don’t get through to you,
my onlie forgetter.
I’m lonely without you, my writing habitual
Mere castles of sand
washed away by the waves like my sins in a ritual
old customs demand.
Dark lady, I’ve written no sonnets to praise you,
it’s ab and ab
that dance in my rhymes to delight, not to daze, you,
so please be my baby?
(9/19/07/Written the night after Linda and I did Tashlikh on Topanga State Beach, followed by a great Beatle-inspired movie directed by Julie Taymor with music by her husband Eliot Goldenthal, “Across the Universe”.)