Ode to one art who hath lingered*

A bishop, priestess,
My Un Wed Mistress,

Thou hath shot
A game, a roulette,

Through my head,
An Un worded piece,
A hot molten Bullet,

one art,

Falling onto thy leaf,
O my favourite Poet,

How have i gotten the View,
To muster those drops of sweat
Few, and blood and drops of Wine too,

one art,

How have i gotten the chance
To the tune of Thy words like rhyme
To dance, I would've conquered the world,


one art,

A Cohen, A Bishop,
On me, when Thou drop,

i try to hold Thine
Your red Divine.

{Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan’t have lied.

It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master, }

Such a horrendous


[* Note: on a poem by E.Bishop and on a prosaic poem with very naturally embedded rhyme scheme.]


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