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RAGE
by
Brent Fuller
Have you quit nesting, questioning, skirting,
Phlegmatic
And three times?
Nary yet,
Since querying, young, blind eyes
Run rings to get the same as most desire
It homes
And climbs a doomsday spire.
Not forgiven and being still acquired.
I watch smoky, same ramparts speed
Steeling
Blithely
Covering greed
Storms, rage, and sanctimonious creed
Culminate in dregs of need
Will that you not come certainly
To champion this fossil castle
We
Till high-some grandiosity speak
And dignify this winsome pyre
Stooped in ignited embalming oil
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