Its flavor does progress, while venting, go
ye think. Knee guard sir, attorney ended
no crime while lions lurk and pigeon gypsies
piss on fruit forts and elfish cement hearts.
Lay on no queen, the nuts of lame elves are
not real. Entreat vial villain lards and eat
lame poets who nay entertain where once
pin marked lancers championed antique towns
and in corners, vortexes of trumpets
cease aging and turn autumn lavender.
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2 comments:
This is only loosely iambic, but it sings. I like the rapidity you achieve through enjambments.
I love the image of lavender autumn. But, pissing on fruit forts reminds me of my tree house days.
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