My Prose Is Turgid, It Just Hasn't

It Is A Moon Wrapped In Brown Paper.

I Like To Use Simple Words, But In A Complicated Way.

What Do I Haveto Help Me, Without Spell Or Prayer,endure This Hour, Endless, Heartless, Anonymous,the Death Of Love?

I Still Read Donne, Particularly His Love Poems

Time Hates Love, Wants Love Poor,/but Love Spins Gold, Gold, Gold From Straw.