Gadfly pin in this Hubbard
cup of habit, I feel larked
a penny a word just like a
particle board watching grief soak,
come on my sons my evergreen
when it gets wet it swells
as country rain covers blame herd
nightly, so many things
have to change & my broken first rib goes on repeat
a depriving day in tempera
not worth eating in my shoes
voodoo in the poultry selection
again in a tirade fallen back
before you get to hiking
forgive my heart wringing out
this strange exit I tried
whittles part by part
yes a love of argy bargy
waiting to happen driving
in tarragon all dearest destroyed
of wracked pain that
fusillade of cudgels I
spurned moon alone in the garden,
we few, we happy few
gilt heads these wounds
I had on Crispin's day
in tarragon all dearest destroyed
of wracked pain that
fusillade of cudgels I
spurned moon alone in the garden,
we few, we happy few
gilt heads these wounds
I had on Crispin's day
