I . . . C L A I M

June 13, 2015

I may make a little make-believe

But I bet when I typeset my type;

Chisel gray poems for the foreign to read,

I’ll stand by all stories I tell the wife.

On the stand, I’ll perjure myself to myself.

But then there’s a fierce fire, uncontrolled,

when I hear, “he’s a liar, so I’m told.”

.

What I say, when I must is

Only partially, & hardly to blame.

The code me & my god go by

Only improbably applies.

Only I can keep my heart’s claim.

.

.

.

.

.

(for sunni, honestly)

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