Each contain seven pictures
Each drawn and quartered
Third easel'd and painted
The fourth merely this world
and if you add together the dis
continents and containments
The Field
lies unplowed beyond each square of pavement
Black hardwood and rainments
Bishoprics and taints
Elementary you say, we'll ain't it quaint
Four Sevens is enough to turn my year ago
Enough is how much they say can fill up just one
Drawer
well add pluralities of empathy
and subtract my ego thats hurting for wealth
and you'd have some Thing like an object which could represent
Well
Health is just environments inside shelves of disorder
They rarely start me in winter fold fall back to summer
and Spring
A gracious step across lilypads
Strafe not for air covers ground patrols sweep
Submariners are the only kind I know not who they are these
Cheats I take for honest
Honest men I could count on my *******
Me and you
Two
Well
One is just a Drawer
On a cabinet
Which I no longer own
and it contains the air inside it
and whatever you put in it
Well I own that too.