Don Of 'Nothin' On It' Poem by delilah contrapunctal.... yes, that's how I intended to spell it.........

again, an opaquery.....epithetically lacking.....
hearing the reciprocal chords...sensing their harmonics,
he vomits flowers.....
.....poet of another stripe,
this tabby, clawless in the clutch,
love is his weapon.....
notes of blue fire stream from his horn..........

he rarely changes his hat.........
...... when he does it's only to whip himself about the flanks with it,
take it to the cleaners
and
run the race all over again.....