My ex-partner profited off the Napoleonic wars.They insisted that their shoelaces were tied.Their moon was the size of a pair of blue eaglesAnd they couldn't construct a proper cheesecake.I sat and listened to their droning about Neptune,Felt their long whiskers pat me on the backAs if I could afford to drink ginger tea.Their dog whistled sweet nothings into the void.Everyone loved them except for you.You didn't know how to play the triangle.That's why I left them for your house of books.Don't you understand? They were an octopus,And you were always seventeen minutes awayFrom the pit of an avocado's frustration.
You came back last night, looking like you did back then.You told me to stop lying, that I had asked for it.I screamed and screamed but no sound emerged from my mouth.Then you did it again, as bad as ever.
Don't freeze.Get a big bag for your stuff.A suitcase if you can afford it;Otherwise buy a box of garbage bags,Double-bag your stuffAnd throw the rest of the box inside.Don't freeze.Make sure to call the shelter hotlineIf it's going to be below freezing.They'll come pick you up.They're nice like that.They don't want you to freeze.When you get to the shelter,Spray down your cot with lice and bedbug spray.It's either your hair or the lice.It's self-defense.
Consulting summer's clock,But half the hours remain.I ascertain it with a shock --I shall not look again.The second half of joyIs shorter than the first.The truth I do not dare to knowI muffle with a jest.
The frog half fearful jumps across the path,And little mouse that leaves its hole at eveNimbles with timid dread beneath the swath;My rustling steps awhile their joys deceive,Till past,--and then the cricket sings more strong,And grasshoppers in merry moods still wearThe short night weary with their fretting song.Up from behind the molehill jumps the hare,Cheat of his chosen bed, and from the bankThe yellowhammer flutters in short fearsFrom off its nest hid in the grasses rank,And drops again when no more noise it hears.Thus nature's human link and endless thrall,Proud man, still seems the enemy of all.
The Winters are so short --I'm hardly justifiedIn sending all the Birds away --And moving into Pod --Myself -- for scarcely settled --The Phoebes have begun --And then -- it's time to strike my Tent --And open House -- again --It's mostly, interruptions --My Summer -- is despoiled --Because there was a Winter -- once --And al the Cattle -- starved --And so there was a Deluge --And swept the World away --But Ararat's a Legend -- now --And no one credits Noah --