Weekly Sonnet 8

Carefully Husked Brute

Suddenly, we’ve come to have had enough;
Until, maybe when someone equally
Bothersome and nefarious is caught.
Please say, I’d like to know completely what
Others so discretely talk about. Thou
Earnest ponce, what downers has Laura brought
(Necessary, I know) to tame thy syn-
Apses? What job could be more severe, how!?

Gannon did truly serve the oldest prof-
Ession «Mister Snow, brush previously
Obscuring must be—and do mind your shin—
Removed, do you agree?» Response: Yes, but,
Geoff [astral answer, glide]...for Scott McCl-
Ellan do we pine?! Ye, fop, say “Uncle”!

Weekly Sonnet 7

Prepupational Locomotion

Ye miserable, crawling worms come ag-
ain, then have you? Out of your doomed houses
with inambitions sprawling backwardly.
Lingeringly and flickeringly good!
only in August and not always then.
Finally after strolling the moors cov-
ered in mud, “That’s dashed awkward,” Meyerburg says.

Great Aunt Ada saw something nastily
ev’ryhing-depends-on-mein the wood-
shed (or the potting shed or the). Thus gen-
erations must remain in irksome love.

A(h)da(h) Veen cannot drink tea from a mug.
Let double V writhe and curl around. You

(but) can be happy if you’ve a mind to.

Weekly Sonnet 6

An Advertisement Editor’s Strange, Erotic Journey from Dublin to Dublin

Molly Bloom me at the end of the pier,
will you? Oy vey! me and my frisky id
are salacious, capricious, insatious-
ly brought down by Dublin’s diverse delights.

(Over and in!) Bean me with a biscuit;
cuckold and blight me with Blazes and flames,
passy and testy; chest you with Spewmarred.
While vengeance-is-mine Willed Fathers appear,
Stephen explicates all of Hamlet’s aims.
Minds contain the holiest perverse sights.

Discrete! move your wet shirt after you’ve Ah!ed
as ev’ryone’s lost it in my conscious
stream. Hovers Circe’s Enigma. Any
Life Pleased. (yes.)―MKGNAO! I CAN HAZ SUM KIDNEY?

Weekly Sonnet 5

It’s a boy’s name, really

She has the visage of the parrot hailed
with a trashy pink but has now been jailed.
Ah! these over-willing Dolly Hazes
propagate their hedonist businesses.
(Is it box-and-spring or some kind of foam?)
Yes, we’re too lazy to be even dazed
or accept subtlety in feminists’
fourth wave. Recall Imus when we amazed?

Your life will fill a large-print summer-tome.
No prude am I to scoff snidely at Best
Week Ever. (Does irony still exist?)
“Nappy” in Third Wave is the crueler jest
but no Hilton will ever know a weave,
nor, after, how sexy to have relief.