POEM THAT USED TO HAVE LINES FROM THE TEMPEST
I have lush grass in my mouth come sit,
your finger at leisure destroy my mute,
I treasure whatever will stay in the room:
And if it goes well we can bury our wit
and 4th. On its back. In the dark. No soft
are tulips whose main function is to petal
I'll write you a wife who hates my hair.
I deleted all drafts of this sonnet and now have no memory of which lines from The Tempest were initially in here. Maybe there were none to begin with.