We recite the book,
pace along
in its border, too.
The un-appeal of lone days.
A tonal ring
of good nights.
The palimpsest
Also, of plants. Also,
of plights.
The poster board
of moonshots.
The printed end now in sight.
I restructured the timorous and
revise
it, too.
Rhythm as rhythm,
also rhetoric,
only.
The detonated
demotic, now demonized,
only. Calling
to a culling from
the callow,
only.
Rhythms that
side of what’s heretical
(epi-poetic?), only.
Space it,
on order — of rhythm.
We right out
rivers, logicks,
yes, this too; & too,
fur only.