My barn having burned to the ground, I can now see the moon.

—Masahide

wearily i walk this wilted way
merrily i mock my mellifluousness
scarily i sneak through smuggled silhouettes
drearily i dowse this devilish drug
barely i build a billowing business
tearfully ticking the time and tracks
crassly kicking crafty concoctions
brashly barging butterflies
trashy tawny tearjerkers
lashing lamentable largeness
aridly alliterating acrimoniously