The craggy hills
are my pillows,
the wintry chill
...
Do not sing me that love song,
you are so well out tune,
you face the music score
...
The velvet night
is like a pool
of nauseous gas
...
This I have observed,
that procreation
and computer work
in akin manners,
...
Be the fruit of a tree
of chosen variety,
bear fruit in season,
...
Verse writing sweeps me like storm,
now I have tried many a form,
but in my heart I hear a boom,
tunes of beauty, of mirth, of doom,
...
Take me in your heart,
nourish me with your love,
let my lie in your arms,
...
Look into my eyes,
fathom the depth
of the bitter sorrow
...
You made him believe
you were a putty,
he tried to knead you,
...
After what seemed interminable time
you returned to this old forsaken clime,
answering you took me quite sometime
as I groped for the reason and the rhyme.
...