Sonnet 40:

When you read this, my injury appears prior to who prompts it.
Not you.

We were informed on your deceit in our sleep, a line from Aeschylus.

We’re playing with a couple of new features and a few we move in any direction.
Not you.

Take all my loves, love. You steal from me and vice versa since all of us is in use.
Billions of highly intelligent beings with high degrees of morphic freedom
interest me only so far. More curious, is why we approach American poetry primarily in terms of understanding it.

As though propositions and semantics were key to poetry’s necessities.
Not you.