13. The Fate of Delilah was Never Writ: Write It, J.Harper

By the way, that's a very powerful 

title, _________ . The pain, inert,

and the inertia (and pain) of authoring

this book will be eased through it, revolver

of knowledge, who suffers for her worth,

and walked the path of injury's abuse,

perceived the profound depths of the ingrate's

degrees!  How enormous is the truth girth

of women who propel the spinning globe,

who calculate the orbit of our Earth...

When Samson's hair was severed,

and rubble the only remnants, how explain 

Delilah, and by what sheer interventions

speak your rationale and modus operandi?

12. And I am simply here to Translate her: a good person, a child, a mother, mi Madre.

It is not I, Edith, who says it. --Don’t you see?

I am listening to the Ears speak. They do!

They too have a language, la langue du Verso

that Sings when it’s bid and answers on its knees

and whispers to the scarlet leaves plashed

along the face of Mother Earth. Only she knows

this verse. The Wanderer, Ovid, and Sor Juana,

her humblest servants and her devoutest.

Mother surpassed them all for what she gained

through the ravages of poverty. She earned

her freedom from greed's passions, mi Madre

who with harshest deprivations was pained.

She has so much to say, she murmurs,

and I am simply here to Translate her.

11. NeleveN: Hidden in the Seams of One

I'm Madame of Verso je suis la langue:
you two get yourselves Ready, Let's Go turn
aRound lemme get a handle on my Rhyme,
I taste your Crown of Flesh. My lovebites
in Pentametrical desiRe. Come, Love,
we are One and One, parallel dipthong:
you from the Top and me from Behind, Mine
everFaithful Poetic citeoP,
my Treasure of Subject Verb and Object
de amor roma ed. What sense is this,
Romance? My Knight of Adornment, Beloved
Andres  andas por las malas, Celos--
go away once and for all. I'm a Poet
of Great Lenghths and you're my Measuring Stick.

10: Decannet tennaceD : Tenacious Gorgeousness

Verse, I am not Vain to sing of glory
I see your Face of Mercy and Beauty,
your heart is in your Brow and balances
love of thought with love of humility.
In such a disappearance of Pride, what
tell you of Service to the Unworthy,
those who Raped your innocence filthily
and in poor measure? What of the haughty
whose sins are a Perpetration of Sloth
of spirit? Of vacant sense and grossil-
oquence? Verse, you are my Refuge and Saint.
I, your child, your false copy, who is certain
that in these lines, your meek splendor and worth
is preserved and extended by its Truth.

9.How do I drop you without Gravity: I will land the Line in Time

Elegant poem of adamantine grace,
the platinum sheen of celestial lace
adorned for the few who value its gains.
I am taking this sonnet by surprise
and gaining high altitude. Hear my Sighs

How do I drop you without gravity,

how make you an Iamb of red and gold?

Housecleaning the memory of dust and mold,

I ask and in reply, a bleak bird squeeks.

Go! airborne inertia of slavish design!

I am in flight and my feathers are singed,

once and twice and five times. Rhythmic Rhymes

sounds that cross, pass, and entwine in my verbs,

I will I will I will land this line in good Time.

8. I'm hostility averse. I prefer freedom of verse

I'm hostility averse. I prefer freedom of verse,
rhyme, meter, prosody, figure, ABC beads!
They create so much happiness for B D full
friendship and purity of purpose. I'm Spinning.
The beat is so Fertile, abundant Creative
engine of Plusses and Surplus and Extras, Yesssss!
Ay les va. Soy princesa de Flor y Versos.
No peleo mi territorio que soy la
Unica que sabe este Ritmo, es el Propio del dolor
convertido en Alas de Horizontes y Lunas.
Que si a éste me lo mataron, I will build
a New One, Universe of Poetry, I Will.

7. Beautiful Foresight:You've Returned Promethea

Beautiful Foresight:You've Returned Promethea,
you are wearing your Crown of Instinct, Antennae
for sound. Eres Poeta y ateoP serE,
a Pre-Relative of Time Past and the Present 
Hour. I wonder at your Desire to turn 
the Line Now. Yes, my father is a Balladeer,
now he has a Bad Ear and gestures his Private 
Langue, Tata. You've brought us all along verse's veins,
we gather around the same parts of sentences,
inside these Enclosure, blooming from inside, ink,
Incubus, Eggshell and silk lining, the Yolk kloY
of Freedom to see Tomorrow and be in Today.