ballad of the one-legged poet

'sconce the longest reaches of a decade

rue over that lost alabaster leg of ivory

remarkable to the extent that truth be beauty,

beauty be truth, as the poet once said,

O I sing! the poet once said,

deserting the desert,

circling the lochs

marauds less upon the moors

circles less the glazing

'sang his gentle hour

strutted into the river of time

as it it was the gallant

the valiant offspring

carry that particle forward

for in much idiocy designs emerge

confusion, flux, the legend

of existence, facts in queue

of him, of his sired

sludged into the flux

din of the coffee can leg

in rue over his lost alabaster leg of ivory

and its been more than a decade,

two, in fact

slogged through deserts

compassed the lochs

circled the moors

and endlessly tries

and endlessly tries