running rampant round late autumn trails,
through memories of the breathing, the still here
and the not-still-here, the vanquished, stone divine

this is a prediction, this is a beautifully dug entrenchment;
this is a scalding habit, this is a carefully drugged patient;
but, now:
now, enthrall, now, withdrawal;
Now, NOW, tighten the blinds!


it's too, far too, bright, and it's August 23rd.
just stop it, man.
dont't let the narrative narrate;
remember the living undead:

this is a prediction, this is a beautifully dug entrenchment
to lie in when the dogs are near, to exit when the clouds are clear;
i don't have any more will, more will to hemorrhage here;
grab the pen: grab the shear! grab the pen: grab the shear!