our
waves like hurricane city our age
like
terrors or pity or working-class huts.
to
have lived so feudal to wrestle our doubts
as
innocence befogged as clarity made
muddy.
if to judge by dignity or to persist
by
integrity where decisions are crucial;
our
elementary alleys cemented in minds
to
recall those uneven gestures; or to adore
cadence
a mallet to beef a temple at unrest.
precious
tiaras so delicate or wild at tears or
feathers
while unfledged dearly; to have
oceans
while boiling emotion rather caged
by
conception. or a fantast so drilled into
images
too whimsical for sagacity.
