pitiful Joe

what Duncan Joe's so gained in four-

score years of hoarded age,

he's lost in sapient sage ...

and waxed a sort of daily

coarsely Gothic weather gauge.

I'd say his cured-clay flowerpot

has come quite planted empty;

so at now his skull's a wholly

vacuumed fully vacant lot

set out to sit in ruthless sun,

its earthen grounds thus left to rot.