Oh the moon in its invidious
state of affair as I grapple
with my slumber's adamant bee-
queathal, and, as it stings
potential to conscious states
of woe...
my sleep comes slow and I have
no poesy
my sleep comes slow and I have
a converse friend with goD
Dog spelled backwards of the fiend!
I've caught a tear and it's mine;
I've put it in my bathtub and
will wash my Dog
spelled backwards -
he's so dirty!
Dog goD 8Hate
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/piquant-moon/
