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Shorts

1/10/2020

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Picture
Augustine
 
Was conscience, which we all possess,
Ever meant to be such a thug?
Augustine needed God much less
Than he needed a proper hug.

Everything
 
You can kill the Girl. You can kiss the King.
Torrential rain excuses everything.

After
 
I had come to treat my mind
With the shrill caprice 
You might heap upon an ill
Frigidaire you’d yearned to kill--
After settling your will
To abort the lease.

​​No
 
Why do you insist that I should be resigned
To the prospect that the bounty once defined 
“Literary Greatness” (when the Muses pick,
Favor, elevate) is like the Cáthólíc 
Afterlife, or like Lombroso on the Mind?
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