A grain too much of sweet junk such
And bloodlove's rush and dove and thrush
Turn into screaming hemogoblins,
Double me over twice and turn the evening
Not at all nice.  Oh, you've fixed me,
Done deep-sixed me, played me for a chipmunk punk-
So soon become a breaded butterfly?
The cracking chrysalis a quivering crumb
To catch the eardrum; you cry and strain-
A re-entry belied by a smallish stain
>From when you sucked the moon's cock
On the dark side; Yes! I saw you
>From my mountaintop, you greedy goody gumdrop,
I know everywhere you shop.
But i am diffident; i pluck the last
Lost plum of autumn, for it has been spring
A long time and still no leaves have rejoined us
That that whore old winter rueful ruined
Longer still ago purloined.
You would write your name on every leaf
Of a tree and call it a book
But that tree will never brook your call
To catch you in its sweet tangly branches
Tingly with your blood on its bark
In your ears- on a lark? your flailing felanges
Failing to sharpen into those wings you so
Fervently envision in your safe helpless nest.
It is my tree, Chestnut, and your heart is stuck
In its crotch, which is just my luck.