1968

Take tooken
By the back brake
O victuals
The eleemosynary
Is a terrible basis
For happiness

Ovals
Peering
Into the cavity
Distaff, that
Cresting pfennig
A styptic
Temerity

No

What is sound
Is clicking

Is faith
Is popcorn

The machine will leave
On its own power

And what grew there
Will, eventually
Spring back up,
Pale, flattened,
Emollient