a poem for today, 18 August 2012
[a word-sorted sonnet of eight sentences and its image]
Nobody calls me monogamous with malice.
Sexy like radiation poisoning you mean.
Yeah, we have a hard time, thanks for laughing at our troubles - and what's worse, not even knowing or caring how it affects us.
We want you to be our eyes.
I never said who stole my money.
A mansion in disrepair can often lead to an end in mansion status, unless the disrepair is a result of the fact that the inhabitants are as old as the building, and the building is old enough to look sufficiently stately in its demise.
Beware of passion.
We've been boarded.