A Sonnet To My Belovéd (The First Of Many)

That My Other Work M ay Be 

By My Belovéd 

Blest

a sonnet 

by a female Faust

Aß difficult to be who I would be,

Belovéd, iß like unto compoßing ßonnet fit

in meta – from, aß well aß – for:  for thee;

( though, an thou ßeest, thiß be writ).

For when reigning in the myriadß reßplendent

Ideaß begotten by thy wit upon my thought

I find them all collapßéd, lame, dependent

And quite unqualified to function aß they ought.

Myßelf I do conßider thiß brave compliment

though eaßily it ßeemeth the reverße

for though thiß sure redoundeth to my detriment

I alßo know that no attempt at all iß worße

...So... have I therefore worked about aß hard upon it,

aß have I yet on any -- finißhed --  ßonnet

A Sonnet by a Faust to Some One Newly Met

To Timon Docent a sonnet by a female faust You are as like a corpse – a soulless Thynge withal –  as daff-down-dillies delicate despairing Desolation do describe;  More alike the Wit whereby you'd audience enthrall:  It stronger Spirit sure than what we'd eagerly imbibe. O let these Words be brave!  If by mischance you came  to Shakespeare's Misanthrope your then unhappy Self compare  would i could convince you of how unbeffitting lame  and thus how rendered doubly the ad hominem unfair. (but first must i make mention of a loue yet unconfessd  i sometime bear the Misanthrope for that one trait alone  not that i would feel the pain to which it doth attest  no nor ever to another such a show of force condone)  ...so... in hopes the Docent doubts not his Desiderata  as foolish surely as if the Student heeded not her Lysistrata.

the Oracle, likeness briefly caught