The blueish painted butterflies
Renewed—but two—as soot cocoons.
Their tapping hues were kindly passed
To swingers (tutti) both attuned.
Too true, as dozenth roots of two
ingrained in Sound; no one immune
from the ever-known, ever-asked
Desire–Envy in the noon.

circling streamlets, blinkered black

horses--hooves struggling out of clay

casts of muck.

crescent scythes screened silver thru

the characters of trees.

strange as the sounded line of a lark's dozenth

betrayal.

dawning.