Sat
Mar
1
universicle additive
the glad-hounds are near…
To he who betrays the requisite,
right light be given and were it not mountains quake with us,
not for this, unspoken, as we engage future-shape.
A touch of haze to accomplish a power-landing, say
how more than enough butter for the biscuit,
or, in words like yours, could this ever actually end?
(let back in the loping tryst)