Okay. I will renounce them.

This I do for you. Shed my

dark cloak, my flowing

blacks, my invented She

dark rutting bitch of poetry.

Not a goddess no. I leave

this to me -- the other me.

But just so you know,

it was never I who invited

said, Pull up a chair! gave

meaningful stare. No. She I

distaned from premier, first

glance, no chance we would

be les amis. But okay, alright,

tonight I put her out

there on the curb

with all of yesterday's

news, by sun-up

she'll be gone.

We'll be blessed

with the absence

I'll sing a different

mourning song, not of

mourning but of morning

as bright and as clear

as the bell that I told you,

yes, you, for whom,

it tolls, it tolls, it tolls.