Friday, July 28, 2017

OTI:two poems and notes:7/28/17

Open To Interpretation

What?  Again too full the ferry has left?
Here again on the stranded shore to wait.
Come here, Cerberus, we are friends bereft,
Your master too busy to walk your fate;

Mine is elsewhere and nowhere to be found.
Sit!  I see your collars, somewhere your leash.
I'll walk the walk with this three headed hound,
And make these fallen leaves wind feared rustle, 'sheesh...'

You all have a coin? Most bring too many,
And leave them with me.  No, I do not know. 
Whatever is over there is mystery.
Tomorrow is always another show.

Between the wires in No Man's Land dread,
Dog and I walk by with not one thing said.

Even for Hephaestus,
The Automaton adventure had been too much.
Learning has a hangover.
And the dread Petra had felt
Now became manifest
As before Nemo again
The crews gathered to hear his newest request.
"The Hexagons and Pentagons
Are imperiled on their far away world."
Said Nemo.
"Pardon our hesitation,"
Said Petra,
"Nemo Of Science,
But from your last rescue,
We all returned Technologicals.
Said Nemo with a shrug.
Said Petra,
"We are Biologicals."
"Your hands are still hands,"
Not Mechanicals."
Said Nemo.
Hephaestus looked at his hand
That Pet had crushed. 
He had made a prosthetic aid for it,
And tucked it behind him.
Who Knows Everything,"
Said Petra,
Walking up to Nemo,
Face to face,
Her arms akimbo, 
"You can be forgotten!"
With that the crews
And their Black Dragons
"To help the Pentagons and Hexagons,"
Said Nemo,
"Requires a BlackSpace Ship Captain.
And they are as finicky as Black Ships.
Only a Queen or a Princess will do."
Said Nemo.
"Petra, I need your interest,
Your curiosity;
Without your imagination
Black Ships don't sail,
Nor BlackSpace Ships."
"Sail where again?"
Said Petra,
"To another Technological tainted sea?"
Hephaestus approached
Black Dragon Pet beside Petra
And held out his hand.
"I forgot what this meant."
Said Hephaestus,
"What I fashioned for Greeks,
Greeks fashioned for themselves.
Remind me Pet,
Crush it again."
In a blink that was done
As Pet obliged.
And Hephaestus winced
With some regret.
"Truth is truth." Said Hephaestus.
"In short."
Said Petra,
And turned to Nemo, and said,
"Nemo Of So Many Trades,
We won't go."
"Not even to another star?"
Said Nemo
"What is there is there's
What is here is here's."
Said Petra.
Out in the Bay
The Island that is a
BlackSpace Ship
Began to stir.
"I promise,"
Said Nemo,
"No more Automatons,
No more Technologicals.
The Hexagons and Pentagons
Are Biologicals."
The Island That Is A Ship
Was phosphorescing,
Dark clouds gathering.
From the docked Black Ships
The Ravens and Gulls flew up
From the riggings into flocks.
Petra hopped up astride
Black Dragon Pet
And looked down at Nemo.
"Hold out your hand, 
Trader Of Worlds."
Said Petra.
Nemo thought long, hesitated,
Regarded Pet. 
Then held out his hand.
Petra reached down and shook it.
Said Petra,
And said to the Black Dragons,
Take us to that Island,
That BlackSpace Ship
Preparing to gallop."


Notes: 'Dog'...reference the River Styx...the ferryboat and the ferryman...bit vague who the persona is in the poem...and grim I thought, and with no note to go with it, but I noted it in reference to the movieDunkirk2017 previews I keep seeing, so rolled over to Regal Dunkirk!...the Greek's conceit of the River Styx has an undertone, if one considers the space between squared off contestants...the battle zone...No Man's Land, the desolation between the opposing trenches, was in a way, a River Styx streaming from Belgium to Switzerland...each side seeking to cross...Dunkirk really dotes on the long wide beaches thereabout...I suppose it is a 'true to life' movie, but the sound track isn't, and so over the top loud, and Vangellis again from Blade Runner...each movement of a ship, or plane, or drowning solider, paired with a sound, usually sticcatto violins!'s silly, skip it...go see Valerian...your welcome...'Deal'...straight ahead Black Deck Tales...maybe the end of Book 4...whole thing I have now like a too big glob of dough on the breadboard...need to work up things into their loafs...OCPC has found another venue...The Gypsy Den, where I went to hear the open mic guitarists...Tuesday seven to nine the time...oh, along with being lame, Hephaestus isn't very tall...and yes, a lift from Game of Thrones...ral...Dragon Queens are Dragon Queens, there, or here...



Tuesday, July 25, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/25/17

Open To Interpretation


Does nothing have your curiosity?
Designs have their Grand Devine designer.
I'm a detective with a mystery:
I'm a puzzle without a puzzler.

For you, evidence of love I present.
I already have some, you always say.
And with that hint, I'm put on the hot scent,
And before you my gift verses array.

It's your perfume, you know, your pheromone
That I followed along to your glass doors.
Like a pack of hounds my gifts howl, sweet moan,
Always losing you upon these dark moors.

To the bees their hexagons always sweet,
Filled with golden proofs, their Queen's entreat.


Notes: oh, an edit update: I hadn't had the syllables counted in some lines...fixed...and I thought the last two lines very weak, unrelated...until...


Benzene, the simplest aromatic compound with hexagonal shape.


hmmph...benzene, very toxic, but safely encased in compounds, is the basis in many perfumes and pheromones...something to do with its six sidedness...and...


I made a garland for her head,
       And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
       And made sweet moan
John Keats

MidnightMovie: "and it's another dystopian tale with Prometheus take"...from yesterday's note on movieWarForThePlanetOf The Apes2017...I keep seeing previews of movieBladeRunner20492017, and so thought I better watch would think that with sci fi authors meticulousness, they'd get the technological developments plausibly chronological...but what the heck, now everything is parallel universes or hologram decks or hallucinations, dreams, etc., so anything is plausible...but that is supposed to be the hallmark of 'hard' science fiction...see Hal Clement...anyway...I thought to watch the old Blade Runner so I wouldn't fall in the plot holes of the new Blade Runner!...and I can't recall seeing it before...are all these dystopian movies with Prometheus takes covers of Blade Runner!!??...back when this was made there were serial killers on the loose in the news, and the movies had that grunge...I think I have that word right...brb...yep, and together with film noir, there you have it...the music by Vangells a curio! is hopeful of movieChariotsOfFire1981 slowmo!...but the soundtrack backs the movie much as movieForbiddenPlanet1956's...I bought the collector's edition of that with's still in the box unopened...that too, is a dystopian world...the Krell's worlds!...Mary Shelly, what have you wrought!...setting things far enough in the future for them to be plausible is such a simple thing...I mean, Star Wars is set in a another galaxy, far far away...what better way to avoid getting overrun by reality! of the most woefully plausible dystopian tales I ever came across was bookArmageddon 2419 the time I read it I was studying out the Rainbow War Plans, and it looked to be full of self similar conjectures!...hmmph...Buck Roger's stuff...


Writing a science fiction story is fun, not work. ...the fun...lies in treating the whole thing as a game.... [T]he rules must be quite simple. They are; for the reader of a science-fiction story, they consist of finding as many as possible of the author's statements or implications which conflict with the facts as science currently understands them. For the author, the rule is to make as few such slips as he possibly can... Certain exceptions are made [e.g., to allow travel faster than the speed of light], but fair play demands that all such matters be mentioned as early as possible in the story...

Hal Clement




Monday, July 24, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/24/17

Open To Interpretation
Near Here

So, I look about to see the deejay
I hear, but the microphone is empty.
Hmmph, all those imprecations canned, I'd say.
'And what else?' I think dismayed. 'Oh, plenty!'

I relax, my feet up, with my popcorn,
And watch my movie, and my movie me.
And there right before me, where stars are born,
Everything is, or not to be, maybe.

Oh, deep sigh for things said and unsaid, said
Forwards and backwards and around around,
Un-recorded recorded: fate reworded.
Only maybe here, something sometimes found.

Come near, Destiny, I'll whisper my name:
Blue Sky. Don't tell. You, I, are just the same.


Notes: well, I borrowed some of the spirit of the back and forth dialog between Valerian and Lauriline in movieValerianCityOfAThousandPlanets2017...not much, but enough to credit...rolled out this evening to Regal and saw movieWarForThePlanetOfTheApes2017...I saw a few of the first in this saga, but I missed some, so was falling in plot holes...and it's another dystopian tale with Prometheus take...audience was small, and cheered on the apes!...what does that portend?...took note yesterday of CNN news reporting on the operational lazer cannon deployed on a ship in the Persian Gulf...cannon is the wrong word for doesn't make any noise, you can't see the beam, the target instantaneously heats up from the photons...I gather it's been around awhile, so something everyone is noting is the announcement...what does that portend? the opening of movie Valerian, it has a critiically acclaimed vignette...with song Major Tom playing, the first one...they could have used STG's! capsule passengers after a docking in space meet one another and shake hands, three on a side...first, Americans and Russians, then the Chinese are added, then from many countries on Earth as they develop and send up astronauts to meet and greet too...the handshakes always the central motif...then the aliens begin arriving from far away worlds, three at time, and the handshaking becomes problematic!'s very well fact, all the vignettes in the film are well done, but they go by so quick, one misses their import...and there is a counterpart import if one pictures the history of weapon technology...first are fists, then we pick up stones, then sticks, clubs, spears, adding stone projectile points, then bronze weapons, iron weapons, and gunpowder weapons, and nuclear each juncture, there must have been a sigh of dismay, as at each juncture the weapons became more deadly...lazer weapons have been a part of science fiction story telling for so long, that everyone is kind of blauze, I think, over the news that now they really do exist...I myself was much stricken on seeing how it over zealous imagination being such...I wont elaborate on what I think this thing can do...oh, but I did make a poem draft...tried to work it into a sonnet, but it was resisting!...and I think I'll just leave it in it's rough draft form...apologies to CNN and Wolf Blitzer!...

Wolf On The Cannon

draft 1
Ah now there is a cannon
That neither smokes nor booms
Some invisible shell explodes
Or not hot  or not somewhat like the mixing valves on your shower.
Most likely much too hot, otherwise
Why bother.
And you'll not know from which direction it came this tidy photon stream that un-tames your skins set afire in wild fire hosing
And how cool comported the targeting observers like serene apocalyptic avenging angels
As close to you as now or as far away as tomorrow or yesterday
Just so you won't know the time
Zone of your Judgement Day.
You may only loose a tooth
Or an eye, but most likely
You and yours will all away
In a blink un-perceived.

In truth this canon is nothing new
And where's the storied fun in instant oblivion?
Wolf On The Cannon

now there is a cannon that neither smokes
nor booms.  An Invisibly hot tinned fork now looms.

And you'll not know from which direction it came this tidy photon stream that untames your skins set aflame in wild fire hosing
And how cool comported the targeting observers like serene apocalyptic avenging angels
As close to you as now or as far away as tomorrow or yesterday
Just so you won't know the time
Zone from whence came your judgement day.
You may only loose a tooth
Or an eye, but most likely
You and yours will all away
In a blink un perceived.

In truth, nothing new, this quiet cannon
where's the story in instant oblivion?

I can retreat from this, reporting all this,
Which is only to say I don't know what this is
What this is is,
Soon we will all live like doomed to fry ants
Pick up your burdens,
Salute one another's passings
sisters and brethren

I can retreat from reporting all this,
Which is to say I don't know what this is
Except say it will end humanity's bliss,
As soon we will all live ruled by this new whiz.

ral...reviewing I'm tempted to work it up...what I could do with 'blitz' blitzer'!...


Sunday, July 23, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/23/17(2nd)

Open To Interpretation
City Of A Thousand Sub Plots

So, dearest, run, hold on to me near, close,
And will pull through this similitude's dreams
Just as arm in arm with Jesus we rose
To sing hymns louder than terrible screams.

So, Destiny, a virtuous life won
I seek, and dispatch these common fell brothers,
And offer love to you, my dearest one,
My sweetest, instead of all those others.

Blue Sky, hero of the silvery screen,
Goes on and on to critics' amazements.
Millions are spent, the gate receipts too lean,
A sorrow worse than spurned lovers' laments.

Meanwhile, we'll casually frequently date,
Beset by ranting creatures harboring hate.


Notes: maybe some tongue in cheek self parody! came to mind that movieValerianCityOfAThousandPlanets2017 is a 'pilgrims' progress'...I was watching a youTube review and the reviewer noted that there were too many sub plots too loosely joined together...and I took excpetion!, I thought, each subplot is an allegory!....the Market in another dimension is Vanity Fair...the two-eyes-on-stalks emperor about to sushi snack on Laureline's brain, with a squeeze of lemon, is the film a cover, a mash up with John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress?...I likely only read a bit of Bunyan in our literature class's anthology text, but I've seen so many stories derived from it that I likely know it all very well!...and it its self is likely derived from earlier works, notably bookTheGoldenAssbyApuleius...I've tried not to allegorize my own things...but it kind of just happens...consider the opening dream episode of the movie, and this:

The Pilgrim's Progress from this World to that which is to come
Delivered under the similitudes of a dream wherein is discovered his setting out, his dangerous journey, his safe arrival at the desired country.

quote from title page of John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress...

just below that on the page is reference to Hosea 12:10,

" I have also spoken by the prophets, and I have multiplied visions, and used similitudes, by the ministry of the prophets."

hmmph...Kahlil Gibran's book The Prophet has been in the mix, and it too I find is an allegorical Pilgrim's Progress ...and Salma Hayek transformed it into an animated movie, movieTheProphet2014, for 12 million, and it took in just one million...but Gibran's book started modestly, as did Bunyan's, but both went on to be among the top in popularity, both still in, Critics be damned, I found movie Valerian delightful!




OTI:one poem and notes:7/23/17

Open To Interpretation
Turtle Island
A stationary spinning desert place,
A turtled island with a single palm;
Musical waves carry the dolphins' grace,
Swimming by to the Star's, the Moon's, slow psalm.

Our ears can mend from raucous loud sounds lashed
Though they will ring constant awhile after
From cymbals and drumming that sang banged crashed
Our undersides with upended laughter.

Our tiny flappers print the morning sand,
Always maybe the seagulls' darts find us,
Interrupt our scrambling rush to wet land,
A startle some moment with panicked fuss.

Is there so much to know we fold legs in,
Never to explore, adventure again?


Notes: one can play cat's cradle by ones self, I recall reading...brb...watched a youTube..."cat's cradle solo" yes....and this afternoon it got into my head to think of each quatrain stanza as a cat's cradle design...begin with a 'loop of string', a conceit, and with the iambic pentameter, and the rhyme, give it a design...then on to the next, improvising another new design that somehow reinterprets the first...or something...jazz musicians do this when one player improvises a riff with their instrument, then another with theirs, and so on...and that works!...imagining things like string interlaced from one hand's fingers to another's helped! makes a game of things...and meter and rhymed poetry is, famously, thought to be game like...


Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.--Robert Frost


reference Turtle Island...Gary Snyder has 'covers' of the term...too...reference movieRocky1976...we've all had pet turtle habitats...too, reference movieValerianAndTheCityOfAThousandPlanets2017!...I rolled over to AMC this evening to see it...much fun!...and much lifted from movieAvatar2009...a continued lifted cat's cradle design!...with lifts from Alice in Wonderland too to be sure!...


For today to have a future,
You must make peace with the past.--the tall thin alien in Valerian


hmmph...bit envious of that aphorism!...oh, I thought of one today...

If by my example, you do, or don't do,
Then everything I do
Must be in regards of you.

and that fits the movie!...consider Bubble and the playlist...maybe should be regard...leave off the 's'...or find a synonym!




Saturday, July 22, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/22/17

Open To Interpretation
Cat's Cradle

Words become rounded and worn seashell lore,
Mollusk abandoned, spun end on end
In the wave stirred migrating sandy shore
Surf scalloped beaches' aggregated  blend.

Sparrow's aphoristic tweets fall to the
Philosophers' metaphorical mill,
Their bothering legalistic briefs a
Storied grist for hungry gullets to fill.

And Love's sweet nothings' eternal refrain,
Beneath the moon, the stars, a palm tree's sway,
Upends this revolving world's daily gain,
Sings to two handed mimes who once were clay.

Collected labeled pristine seashells rest
In closed dark drawers with the sparrow's nest.


Notes: there are a lot of Emily Dickinson sites...a lot...and I happened on one that listed the 'ten best poems'...brb...


Emily Dickinson did not leave any poetics or treatise to explain her life’s work, so we can come to her poetry with minds and hearts open, and unearth whatever it is we need to find.

unquote other words, she left no notes...and her poems in essays are often referred to as 'aphoristic'...not knowing what aphoristic is, I looked it up...oh, I have been all this over a week ago...and an aphoristic quote Kahil Gibran has is like one of mine, in so many words...not that I knew mine was an aphorism!...brb...


"Today is now
Borrowed from yesterday
To be lent tomorrow."==The Talking Plank



Yesterday is but today's memory,
and tomorrow is today's dream.-- Khalil Gibran
Read more at:


and I found the famous aphorism about the fall of a sparrow, after I wrote up an aphorism that went...I can't recall! got lost in editing the above, as I made the above poem from a handful of aphorisms I made, the title was one (since changed--see below)..."I could be a Hindu in a moment"...oh, I should have saved them...anyway, the Hindu one came about because the aphorism look up led to the aphorisms in history, notably the ones from India...they took things to the extreme...the Vedas...this I didn't know, the Vedas are apparently aphorisms with commentary...the commentary being called...brb...


Bhashya (Sanskrit: भाष्य) is a "commentary" or "exposition" of any primary or secondary text in ancient or medieval Indian literature.[1] Common in Sanskrit literature, Bhasya is also found in other Indian languages. Bhashya are found in various fields, ranging from the Upanishads to the Sutras of Hindu schools of philosophy, from ancient medicine to music.


and the aphorisms are called:


Sutra (IAST: sūtra सूत्र) is a Sanskrit word that means "string" or "thread".[1] In Indian literary traditions, it also refers to an aphorism or a collection of aphorisms in the form of a manual or, more broadly, a condensed manual or text.


incidentally, there is something between sutra and bashya...


Shloka (meaning "song", from the root śru, "hear"[1]) is a category of verse line developed from the Vedic Anustubh poetic meter. It is the basis for Indian epic verse, and may be considered the Indian verse form par excellence, occurring, as it does, far more frequently than any other meter in classical Sanskrit poetry.


in other words: a sonnet's envoy, the last two lines, is an aphorism, a sutra; the sonnet as a whole is a poem, a shloka; and the realm of the scholars, the bashya...I'm not sure how far back this all dates, but it looks like 400BC, with suspicions it all goes back to before the Ice Age...iambic pentameter is the English verse form 'par excellence' ...this, this arrangement, is common all over the world...the memorized oral tradition of the Veda's maybe the most has been passed down orally, memorized forwards and backwards!, with the same meticulous care the Jewish Torah is carefully hand transcribed one edition to the next...brb...


The real core texts of the religion that exist today are the hymns known as qawls; they have also been orally transmitted during most of their history, but are now being collected with the assent of the community, effectively transforming Yazidism into a scriptural religion.[78] The qawls are full of cryptic allusions and usually need to be accompanied by čirōks or 'stories' that explain their context.[


It's of interest I think that the word 'sutra' relates to weaving terms...threads and needles...the whole tradition to warp and weft/woof...if one thinks of a sonnet represented in fabric, one can see the sutra/sutures, the stitches, da dum da dum da dum da dum da the lines end is a rhyme which turns things back after a warp and woof...oh it's certain...writing didn't begin on paper or papyrus or animal was on fabric...on/in clothes...along with illustrated all lost like the Greek's encaustic paintings...and lost like the meanings of the Inca's fabrics...the number counting Quipo knots hint that stories in words could be recorded too...brb...


The Rosary (pronunciation: /ˈrəʊz(ə)ri/, Latin: rosarium, in the sense of "crown of roses" or "garland of roses"[1]), usually in the form of the Dominican Rosary,[2][3] is a form of prayer used especially in the Catholic Church named for the string of knots or beads used to count the component prayers.


Buddhist prayer beads or malas (Sanskrit: mālā "garland"[1]) are a traditional tool used to count the number of times a mantra is recited, breaths while meditating, counting prostrations, or the repetitions of a buddha's name. They are similar to other forms of prayer beads used in various world religions and therefore the term "Buddhist rosary" also appears.


Quipus, also known as khipus or talking knots,[1] were recording devices historically used in a number of cultures and particularly in the region of Andean South America.[2] Similar systems were used by the ancient Chinese and native Hawaiians


Chinese knotting


Oldest Carpet

Cat's cradle is a series of string figures created between two (or more) people as a game. The name of the entire game, the specific figures, their order, and the names of the figures vary. Versions of this game have been found in indigenous cultures throughout the world—from the polar regions to the Equatorial zones.


hmmph...happening on cat's cradle, I just made a major edit!...previous title was "I could be a Hindu in a moment"...and changed "Sings to two mime statues..." to " Sings to two handed mimes..."..."Before ice age"...BIA...I have in mind a Before Ice Age clip art book...or 'kit'...some additions: Cat's Cradles are in it...Ochre Crayons are in it...related to the crayons is the air brush like cave artistries...pigments blown through a hollow reed or some such, or I gather, just pigments blown from one's mouth to make those handprint stencils...comes to mind I've seen like handprints on Native American horses, and teepees..


The red handprint stands for death of an enemy or stained hands from war; used by many different tribes.


a remarkable thing is that when the Europeans arrived in North America they arrived in the midst of Stone Age cultures with 'kits', 'clip art books', pre-dating the last Ice Age...they Australia they continue..


Many researchers have suggested the oldest paintings include depictions of long extinct animals but we can never be absolutely sure of this. Used pieces of ochre, “crayons”, are found in the lowest levels and throughout excavated rock shelter floor deposits in Australia.


I thought that charming as I had just used the words 'ochre' and 'crayon' in poem Salem

... ... ...
"Rosy fingered Dawn takes up her crayons"
"Red ochre filled reeds we trumpeted through
Until our handprint flared outlines found you."


Thursday, July 20, 2017

OTI:one poem and notes:7/20/17

Open To Interpretation

Here they come and I my sleepiness feign.
Conjoined they are I hear forever near.
My door cannot comport their worldly reign.
What wealth they have!  I have nothing to fear.

Forever's a long time with one rhyme scheme,
I know, I have my own each time I pass
Through these nightly glass doors to your regime.
Some nights, I, admitting remiss, send this:

A flirtatious hint to you: "Take my hand
And descend with me my rhymes' loosened steps,
And sit with me along the sea's long strand,
Share lunch, least we be thought fasting adepts."

I have you you have I, our selves' plenty
With this wild blue sea's endless bounty.


Notes: not the first time I've gone off on salesmen at the door...I ignore them, I abhor them...terrible rude I think to invade one's privacy with trade...and yet, here I'm about maybe something not much different...I try to soften the knock knock ads here, no eye twisting meme slogans there...'here' being the blog, 'there' being the link on facebook...actually, most time that link doesn't link, or links so briefly, that I'm in the clear...but for those who do find here, my apologies for the trading!...anyway, a normal day without a thing, until they knocked while I was studying out Emily Dickenson's poem 22...having learnt that Shakespeare's sonnets can be web conjured by just googling 'sonnet (pick a number 1-....brb...154)',  I thought to conjure 'Emily Dickenson poem 22'...and that works!...I think Emily has like...brb...1775, 1789, it varies, has the first lines listed, so one could too text search...the Bible of course has this...and along with the texts are the exegesis...which I find problematic...too much the preacher reading out, lowering the text, and going on and on..."Papa don't preach!"--Madonnna...but when things are too culturally distant, drifted away as languages change, or just too damned James Joyce like, I look for help...apparently, poem 22 is about the constraints of 19th century woman hood, which are the same stretching back to Adam, and still persist in most of the world...arranged marriages, narrow limitations...a male dominated, there I was with poem 22, and the Lord's own at the door, and I just went off, on and on! didn't all happen quite like that, but in truth I do traders a favor by not answering the door...a courtesy I'm likely given my own self often...I'm just going to say no, anyway, too!...

"I gave myself to him"

I gave myself to Him—
And took Himself, for Pay,
The solemn contract of a Life
Was ratified, this way—

The Wealth might disappoint—
Myself a poorer prove
Than this great Purchaser suspect,
The Daily Own—of Love

Depreciate the Vision—
But till the Merchant buy—
Still Fable—in the Isles of Spice—
The subtle Cargoes—lie—

At least—'tis Mutual—Risk—
Some—found it—Mutual Gain—
Sweet Debt of Life—Each Night to owe—
Insolvent—every Noon—

Emily Dickenson

That web page includes the dashes, and other idiosyncrasies...since I have such my own self, I understand them...when they are included!...fie on those who grammatically delete them!'s the beginning draft of Wealth...

They come upon my door and I feign my sleepiness
Conjoined they are I hear forever near
That's a long time to walk with one rhyme

Scheme I know I have my own
Each night I wander through
Your black glass doors
Some nights this, I admit remiss,
A flirtatious hint to take my hand
And walk my paths step by step,
My rhymes to rhymes loose steps.

Oh even while you say no and no
I continue another cast
Different from the last
Your no lass to be hooked fast
So we have this ever patient fast
And I bring some lunch to
Share with you upon this creek's long bench
We're always hungry, isn't it a funny something?
And can always share this repast
Rather than some dour nothing.

Sea has fish, sky has birds
In all their variety
I have you you have I
And lowly love's society.