b. h. fein (they/them) is not fine. they have appeared in a growing number of lit mags. they no longer write cloying classical-style poetry :)
Classical poets be like
march 5, 2024note: this poem is meant to be a funny love poem! the metre here is intentionally poor, and the references are intentionally forced or inaccurate.
Reighleigh (Le Beauty Whomst’d’ve Doth Take Mine Drink Orders at Starbucks) Sonnet XLII
By Shelley’s Disciple
From whence the knocks of Dian’s bow do spring,
Or dance as tuned from ’Pollo’s lyre inspired,
Mellifluous, diaphanous offspring—
The beat of hunter and ’mir’d conspir’d.
Like June did smite with thunder and torment,
and Achilles interred brave Hector’s bones,
Love blossoms when secret challenges foment
Like smithèd nickels str’k’ng thy tipping jar!
But know thou not thee as me yet, I fear’th,
’Tis been yet two months where Attic ticks time;
The Birds of Ar’s block the way to thee(r) shrine—
Thine Golden Fleece (thy number) will’st be mine!
Fresh countenance would hold a secret tune:
You, Artemis; et moi: Endymion.
b. h. fein (they/them) is not fine. they have appeared in a growing number of lit mags. they no longer write cloying classical-style poetry :)