In motion contrapuntal The dregs of a day's end are Washed down with a pint or two, This day when night's sway increases. Worries in parentheses Ghettos of forgetfulness I am spectator to life external, Briefly then I must return To the straightening of circles, Embodiment of abstracts. To add if others, nebulous, permit: A few more digits to the statement. I drift it seems, evidently Ill prepared for the task at hand: To steal an hour of calm From time's empty larder. What's to learn from experiments, Gone awry regarding evidence ? Repose is too romantic to forsake, Though pinwheels prove to be windmills. That bastard need is a lover I say, of fortune and her humors. Court as we will, we hope at most That she lets us cop a feel.
©2012 - C Ewen Mac Millan