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O Felon Heart
What’s that musiche said,
alert always to the undertow,
to the tide interrupted.Who’s sick at heart
he said, wanting me to say no one,
wanting one bodysubject to another
into infinity. What’s that wine
you’re drinkinghe said,
adept at all my mouth wanted to gather.
Why not just saywhat happened
I said, aware my words
were retrograde,and liking
that debased formula, all the power
the tired script of lovestill had to offer.
You know that song, its name,
its testament.You know what rooms
we steal through to hear it now. 
Dear Delinquent
O Felon Heart
The Seal