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Dave Bonta
a while to wait
so I find love
see a fine woman and play
at being thoughtful
ready with a book
telling the beautifulest mouth
a pretty lie
my heart is a beautiful fat woman in childbed
and I am the bed
I increase in any place
where I want to live all in one place
barking dog
one of the prettiest women
scolding it
chance is a good companion
but needs are the greatest confidants
I love sometimes
and sometimes I do not care
a woman is lovely but I suffer
God forgive me for my books
I came to town
to blot out the hours
though it did not seem so good
as at first
the bottle is a woman
I hope may let me be
Chamber us close
in the hand—one moiety.
Like the silent woman
on a playing card, I stayed
looking upon the gallows
and the hanged man.
A theorbo
is as good as
a captain of
a theater,
a woman in
men’s clothes,
the best legs,
an alehouse,
a hit,
a hand-
some urn.
A road of dirt and ash.
Deep in a hollow, a woman
resembling the sea,
considerable and weary.
I give my fish
to a pretty woman
and lay my head in the water—
which spoiled it.
I am sorry that I am not at London
to hide among the ants.
By the light of the moon,
my little candle is a stranger.
The pretty woman speaks Latin
and I love her books
by an inch of candle,
see the images burn
in the sovereign, singing tongue.
This morning I will go
to Constantinople
where the woman I love
sells child’s coats.
Last night
I sent for my chest
and put on my black silk for joy.
This morning I was taken
with a comely woman: not handsome
but a woman of the best language
that ever I heard any
in my life.
I took leave to go to the office
and could not return.