Martyrs who make a fine meal for the moon
Animal stuffing in socks at Christmas.
Molotov cocktails, cherry atop, bombs.
Here the melodies that make me weep
    deny, deny, deny
    the voices rising up and overflowing cheerly.
Cheep, cheep, cheep.

Teatime tripped her up and felled her just so.
Cherry nose in the snow.
A marked woman, she slept
    somnambulated
    sang, sang, while she...
And then for teatime again
    I'm afraid it was all over
    A lover.

Balancing balenas, a whale of a time.
O give me a home
I have darkened in my hour
And no alone, no, not.
These are such lines, oh such lines,
    dots, bars, patches, blobs.
Who shall decree what the order be?