Low Comic Requiem Mass for Loners and Exiles
What if one take the lightning by the horns,
Or govern like a godly governor?
Scorched, smothered,
Song (under megatonnage of bass brasses brazenly
Out-uttering one another bell by bell) tolls
Goodly-good good-bye, so, so, so long
With every bit of metered dignity
Permitted by celestial abruptness
As it subtends our arc.
Our Lady of the Succotash:
The brownly bearish church will have shrunk a mote,
The dogwood may not bark through the same throat.
Thus drags the ho-hum drama down to drumroll.
Circumferences of canonical cathedrals crown
The plumb evacuated skull of Edgar Poe with asymmetric lights
Collected from all mornings, noons, and nights
And recollected in a pickpocket's pocket.
What if one take the lightning by the horns,
Or govern like a godly governor?
Scorched, smothered,
Song (under megatonnage of bass brasses brazenly
Out-uttering one another bell by bell) tolls
Goodly-good good-bye, so, so, so long
With every bit of metered dignity
Permitted by celestial abruptness
As it subtends our arc.
Our Lady of the Succotash:
The brownly bearish church will have shrunk a mote,
The dogwood may not bark through the same throat.
Thus drags the ho-hum drama down to drumroll.
Circumferences of canonical cathedrals crown
The plumb evacuated skull of Edgar Poe with asymmetric lights
Collected from all mornings, noons, and nights
And recollected in a pickpocket's pocket.
Or govern like a godly governor?
Scorched, smothered,
Song (under megatonnage of bass brasses brazenly
Out-uttering one another bell by bell) tolls
Goodly-good good-bye, so, so, so long
With every bit of metered dignity
Permitted by celestial abruptness
As it subtends our arc.
Our Lady of the Succotash:
The brownly bearish church will have shrunk a mote,
The dogwood may not bark through the same throat.
Thus drags the ho-hum drama down to drumroll.
Circumferences of canonical cathedrals crown
The plumb evacuated skull of Edgar Poe with asymmetric lights
Collected from all mornings, noons, and nights
And recollected in a pickpocket's pocket.
What if one take the lightning by the horns,
Or govern like a godly governor?
Scorched, smothered,
Song (under megatonnage of bass brasses brazenly
Out-uttering one another bell by bell) tolls
Goodly-good good-bye, so, so, so long
With every bit of metered dignity
Permitted by celestial abruptness
As it subtends our arc.
Our Lady of the Succotash:
The brownly bearish church will have shrunk a mote,
The dogwood may not bark through the same throat.
Thus drags the ho-hum drama down to drumroll.
Circumferences of canonical cathedrals crown
The plumb evacuated skull of Edgar Poe with asymmetric lights
Collected from all mornings, noons, and nights
And recollected in a pickpocket's pocket.
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