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)