catcalls –

under Vast ramparts, killed and Sure, we

broke into the Auditorium waving flags

and Scantily sang

our Mixed-up Chorus for the Year -- it

was a breeze, you said, inclining

your head this way then that -- What

manner of being

are you to Muster such Courage from Fairy-Tales?

the surefooted

deities of another Age arrive

ill-kempt and badly behaved; we would Push

them from the hall

before Us shouting lamentations to Raise the

wounded in Spirit, forlorn but not forgotten; (What

kind of Life is this, that

Stutters when it proclaims? -- What mewing Essence

survives our Subterfuge?) -- Under

irreverent

Skies we Mate; or it

is utterly lionized, this

inclination for Sweat, for Tears, for

dried

peppers spicing the Eye -- Where

are the Characters in

this Redacted Story? Can we

believe

our Elders this Time?

our growth is not Stagnant; merely we rest

under

the Willow wondering . . .