• Traverse;
    counting the spots
    on a Luna Moth.
    Simply agonarchs
    when it comes to the broth.
    Grasping the dirge,
    but under the urge
    to percieve the brush
    as a coming of ages.

    Ruffian;
    cleaving the dogma
    of our formal prada;
    lovely fools
    of a blemished armada.
    Grappling a saddle
    and branding the cattle.
    Like inimical preemies
    that have yet to be born

    unto our world of circadian -ides.