'Oyez, oyez!' The Man Who Did Not Deliver is before you for his deliverance, my lords. He stands, as charged for This by banks, That cops, by lawyers, by publishingers for Them. I doubt he'll make old bones. Be. I warned him, of a summer night: consist, consist. Ex-wives roar. Further, the Crown holds that they split himself, splitting his manward chances, to his shame, my lords, & our horror. Behind, oh worst lean backward them who bring un-charges: hundreds & one, children, the pillars & the sot. Henry thought. It is so. I must sting. Listen! the grave ground-rhythm of a gone . . . makar? So what.
Added: 25 Mar 2002 | Last Read: 28 Jun 2025 8:09 AM | Viewed: 4233 times
A PoetryNotes™ eBook is available for this poem for delivery within 24 hours, and usually available within minutes during normal business hours.
ON SALE - only $29.95 19.95!
For more information...