... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... country ..., ... experimental ..., ... heartsick ..., ... humor ..., ... L.F. ..., ... life ..., ... lips ..., ... love ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... the South ..., ... the sun ..., ... time ...

Bathsheba, It was true love

you fill me,
woman,
with maniacal
schemes and plots,
a rage of irrationality,
a cabal of good feelings,
yet,
reduced to a witless
rantipole
with a gawky smile,
and a half dozen road-
side wildflowers,

when you tickle
the eyes;
with golden sunbeams,
(tinted green);
chest heaves,
and heart cooks,
and melts, dripping
through lung and
and stomach and
whole body follows
downward in a
frothy
cascade of what
i once was,
and will never be
again,
and i swim in
my own puddle

just another happy fool
who saw you.

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