Incentive --

in this our house we have hunger and heat

we break down doors and commit fraud

in an intimate Way; what of the Night, its Seat

there at the border of a wine-Colored God? --

is it happenstance that glues Us together?

Here where we die; here we are Reborn;

are we to be bought? Under the Weather

that shelters our Instincts we are Shorn

of Piety, that Everlasting Symmetry; what

of the days you stop to drop in on me

while I am Unaware? Is it that

we have come to Understand the Sea?

Apt decisions form headstrong ideas

flush with Measure; cooled by breeze –

*