The king or duke of loveletter audiences

Bit of an answer to the question “Who are you addressing with such tenderness, poet?” and so frequently there is no answer.

__

Too often–how much can often be–
a poet wiggles into the brain
his tool of matrimony and devices,
such crises, into fifty crevices erupt
the whore poet with no preference
of love and love to each;
his or his and his fondles make little sense
to even the concerned
but claw not the sea
make the time spent along the serpent’s back
no foolish action of a literal hack
but claw not the sea
claw not the face of strangers with strangeness
which illumines the nights of sitting-professionals
or fools who profess to love the night
or fools who profess to loving every face with strangeness
or strangers who seek out poets to wed in the night. . .

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~ by Jeremy on September 28, 2008.

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