NOVEMBER

My spine crochets the eleventh moon
As I try to reassemble the mystery of misery,
Everybody comes my way,
Every detail of joy giggles into my gallery,
Sweetly promising a bomb of the galaxy.

But who wouldn't see the tail of the train?
Which is best, which is least?
At least I could name some of 'em.
I'll tell you which is which,
Just let me finish this stitch.

All mothers can be evil,
She may be naturally rebellious,
Mrs. Earth wrenched our house,
But when she channeled a bad vibe,
Why did she regard my divine tribe?

And...