With Reargards to the recent, unseasonable,

dogged Daze I, lacklustrous,

underwenched in Listfulness:

I was semi-glosst, dulled-normal;

underburnished, dis-tempestuous & dyspepsick. 
When installed in this infernall Offseason

— the always & forever Fall —

I ghostessed my own pitiless Party,

my own Cullapse into Melancollie.

All my Ambishun e-loped with the passing Slummer.
My Selflesh got boot-cellared hard

by Paradoxology’s bipolar Foes-Amis.

Hog-tied in Desesperanza all

purityrannical, I rued [my Ruination] that

I amb numbskulled unreasonassailably.
When my Summerfella was inaugust,

I brayed for Octember, wreckomember?

Even my Poemas, lil’ Duhlinks & Decreations,

dropped by the Wayside, obsolete. Which are

my Desperate-Rations, my only Disimpairment.
Now, moot Glossolollygagger, forlorn I do

outcast about: a speak-hardly Lush,

pallorgamey, feinting & stymied. Hide-bound,

I waller in my lovelorn, butchered-sweet

Dissed-appointment in the fine-feathered Fiend, 
Poetree [sic], I am too in vain to shake

my Selflessness down more for.

Listless like this is Lifelessness, lived-in.

I reap my Disinvestment in Swagger,

gleaning its overripe, windfallen Pomes.