WINE AND GATES

Candor At All Nearly Adam Now, In Till Eves

stale, the note to Charles for a night
the walking of a dour season, in the neglected air
the right to a chance meeting, with a briefer sight
the walls to a slight care, in the call of duty we accepted, fair

shining the brass ...
Charles noticed the kind of came, in the semblance of jest
to a thriving city, named for a frequent pass
of choice from the right to the left, or behind intoned with a fore missed

quieting the alluded too, time in its march
of tranquility and are of tongues, sent to jeopardy with a lung
terror has you'd by the nose, where even a bastion of worth, kept sorts
then to lend, the misuse of a cotton rag, now and with a heed of among

shadows and the thought for placation, the song on the radio
wind to live again, the color of swords and the pill of asking, towns
of speak and easier motive for a dance, with fire itself, a curiosity to know
the spark of indignancy that comes to these, for a westward blow?

breaking the news?
sullying forth for a sandwiched misery, complete with a missing tooth?
obnoxiousness and duress in kinged flowers of chance, where a smile is due?
timid looks of lucre and the marriage of need in the stare that accrued?

done
the smoke of journeyed minds in the east, to wish upon a further star
Hippocrates and the choice of vinegar over a lap of shown frown
complete to a shared finger, the smile has become a fresher season of a wart ...?

do?
you are, the minutes until a face appears in the window, for its rigid keep
the sincerity of a bird of succor in the mouth of a honor, for the good
way we shake hands, minus the mold, the fury of an eye lens, and risks of laundered history's

done?
this pride of messages to the sound of a liberty in the mar, for out the kisses
of an eclectic some, in the miles until we see the livid and the won
during the shame of consciences that come, to this well for ancient wishes

do
many eyes and higher rulings of worth of sore lips away, the nose of chastity
is in the closet, selling its heart out for a quiet, you
like a stink of change and the murk of a sullen one, you are the sigh of vanity



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Candor At All Nearly Adam Now, In Till Eves

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