It’s not the chain-linked, West 4th war courts,
nor the restless irons encircling
in pale gray aboves..
Not the charity stipend of a peacekeeper,
for their bing-bong asphalts
wearing warm parade pennies thrown..
Not a bending knee (it don’t know no Never),
as evening elevated, claiming
shells of when petrified shots did stray..
Not the off, stick-&-move routine implosions,
into abysmal, Abyssinian realities;
desert watch’s negativity, peninsular..
And no to that boxed out, major collective,
reflections: this crazed that line
misaccorded, attempts stark, adumbrated..
Neither (either, ever) silky jumper past pinch-
post, nor baseline divvies
sorting up banal, rash carpeting theft..
To negate, too, a canonical, a projectile tip:
trajectory’s violence spiraling,
at odds, heedless ends, hollering all ball..
Ne’er stretched o’er buildings’ depth, balloons
thru circuitous held air,
gasp-light, & the ones finally nestling..