A marbling shift of tremor

. . . .lapped under the gameda,
stands the zenithery past,
as far as the promendery wheelers will allow,
but yet conclasion and snapth abound
and the apt arroism to where no sane
or even able colquater will sneak,
before the warming rays
of a moonridden sun will dance,
as the silvery horseman
astride the lightning blur
rides into his destiny. . .

1974