Look. The moon’s pale-copper sphereRings—a gong too faint to hear—Through the city.
- Stephen Edgar, 'The Building of Light'
and A.E. Stallings:
I hate you,How the children pleadAt ﬁrst sight—
I want, I need,I hate how nearlyAlways I
At ﬁrst say no,And then comply.(Soon, soon
They will grow boredClutching yourUmbilical cord)
- A.E. Stallings, 'The Mother's Loathing of Balloons'
P.S. Those of you who don't need poems to rhyme should also check out Armantrout, who is as delightful as ever.