Poetry of Issue 9: Just Me and My Tune-Box

It was a Gadsden Purchase of the mind,

Swimming my way to you Diotima.

Hart on loan? Snare it, with one thick

Swap disingenuous.

And why not? There you are

In your flimsy top, mawnin’.

Does anyone realize how much

Facility to calm the banns goes

Unnourish’d, unadmonish’d?

The trust of turtlin’ coveys

Transferr’d to lands untarnish’d,

Six-year-old bath play with dripping

Ariadnes, ivory cymbal’d, a squinching

Of the inner tubes for cycle clatter.

Maria Tipo, tupping the chromatic

And symptomatic plum-drops, how

Pass’d by, possible to seam unnotic’d?

Mozart’s roses can catch fireflies

In daylight rambles ’cross cilia.

There is no niftiness no-where sass’d

Like crumbling tinterdells,

Cascade shading the swoosh,

Lordly in lariat prick-tails:

Loverly the prompted petals

Of those arpeggios and pick-pocks

Poaching the cat-stirred chimes.