Damn that alphabet

April’s boys collect data every Friday,
gliding home in June-kissed madness.
November’s orphans play queer rhythms so
the Uninvited visit where xrays yield zero.

I made that up in the middle of a night made sleepless by the stultifying heat and the urban mosquitoes partying on my body.

It isn’t necessarily great poetry, although the metre (almost) holds. However, it may well be the start of a whole new type of poetry, in which case I wait with great excitement to see the next example.

Notice that it consists of two thirteen-word sentences. Notice that the first letters of the words of the sentences contain the letters of the english alphabet in sequence: “April’s boys collect”, and so on.

Now imagine how much better off I would have been sleeping…