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.
1 February 2015