the orange cones
the calendars boxed beyond the thinking
a stupid needle on a farm --
all those houred chances before granted, taken back...
I said it, yes.
for there be important Title to consider
just before Behold.
Despite sycophantic Caesars and deep dark worry
still am I here upon my lorry
my lofty porch
my TARDIS sans MD,
long lazy harbor shadowed,
above rustle, whom I know so well
and right beneath Great big Solace in the sky.
warming soul through skin
12s lined up the clock above the Lighhouse go:
stripeless, stout and golden kittied.
A geometry of beacons without, within,
As above, and so below.