Have thoughts like a dog Pat and scold them Until they behave With that desperate, Pavlovian drool There is no news today Just stray cats and poetry And the crisp meringue Of clouds If I wilt in the disdain Of your withering heights Perhaps you will forgive My awful pun, bleak and mad As it is, with thwarted love A bird will steal your voice If you let it Nevertheless, a hand full of crumbs
