from Stupefiction

~ 17 ~ Crowded lounges verify The ink-free Sheet of page Pored over by Witty monks then Additional scholarly ones With tact muted Solidly as cones Wedged into trumpets That now quack Partial surprise until The alarm sounds Improvised by heart Belonging to yesterday’s Intrusion rendered freely On a screen To be remembered ~ 19 ~ Slip into hot Night limping along These headline antlers Interrupted by the Color blue intelligently Hastened by appearance Made whole answerable Triumphant rack until The wonder tan Goes slack moon Trembling planetary look Of tension bask Of tension twelve Or so angels On the forearm Cloistered like kin Of deities estranged