I'm gazing toe fat first
at certain things I wish not to see  
like cathartic cathedrals en vue,
still I've forgotten all the rules,
twisting butter knives
runs counter, yet upwards
into spare rib cages,
will silence placate those tectonic plates
can the river merit summer this way,
as Hare Krishna bather's prays echo
blind-side towards the shady grove
already lost to the knowing season