Sonnet 10: We lodge now (in the presence of physics-oblivion) 
a headless pedagogue hammering out Bo Diddley —   
Sap repairing figureheads top speed. The murder option centered more per theorem.   
 
Panning back fast to grant your audience more of yourself, your love to bear, your beauty 
tampering w/ thought experiments.. you love no one.  Him? 
 
We think not. It’s even regulatory = hating him =
hating yourself feeding on non sequiturs like concepts   
sticking to what’s un-enclosed in nominal trivia to locate fresh paradox —   
 
For you change your mind repeatedly enslaving romantic poetry so you can be taught  
(a conspiracy loved by an impassive number, so many..) ..