again and again the morning comes undone and we march - stuff-lunged into crunch and mule love blunder-busedΒ Β and lump-kin but for always a short ton of long grief tweaking the snip of a dead sow's ear to reap a jewel from a dead mind.
but here
i love you like a war in Spain spiking the Punch and Judy/ a fugue grief on a tide of dark joy slavering at the haunches of a Pegasus.