three limericks in honor of Diodorus Siculus.
a triolet occasioned by the coming of spring.
a love-song, a love-song.
Our little ship with paper sail Sets out upon the sea – A narrow nutshell for the boards Holds us both in state; And with brave splinter for a mast ’T will weather any gale.
appetite alters everything restive beneath words containing all meaning —less you have been used to your beauty