--Man be my Metaphor, D.T.

Infante Supram

Come to me Letter Scarlet and Gilded,

Embroidered with that Great Massachusetts.

Her stitches as Gossamer as Dewlettes

Intricate feathers paint the Dawn with It

Before it is Quartered the Sun Bows Down

Forward and across hsi back is Drawn

And though on Chariot, draws its Arrows

It lands at the Spine of the ANkles Frown

Rings of an Alphabet Cosmos even

Beads in Velvet, Silky as iGreen Moss

And Delicate as Treasure of Nothing ( oh )

A Sound Triumphs through the Silence and Breathes

Veiled in Multiple Crescendod Belief

The Sun as it Falls also RIses