Sonnet IV: Liquid Sorrow

Too well, he knew; did Baudelaire, my twin
Of spirit, forebear of my soul; and knew,
As only he, my dearest poet, grew
To know; this drink was fine, as knew he sin.

So I thereof  proclaim to thee, who’s been
My sweetest love, as my devoted, who
For all thy sorrow; as my servant, do
Afore the morrow; as my slave:  Begin;

Goe; bring thou me that nectar of my soul,
That finest thing of sweetest Xerex grape,
And wilt thou see, I shall become returned
As he, who thou admirest, the whole
Of me, thy bliss desirest, as burned
Thine heart; and nary, snared as this, escape.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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Intro 4: Liquid Poetry

As Baudelaire, my
father, my twin, my dearest
poet knew this drink

was fine; so shall I
proclaim: My sweetest love, as
my servant, as my

devoted, as my
slave; bringest thou me of the
sweetest Xerex grape

and I shall become
returnèd to that which thou
most admirest.