The Sun Fades Like The Spreading Of

The Gray Glaze Of The Past Attacks All Know-how...

The Sun Fades Like The Spreading Of A Peacock's Tail, As Though Twilight Might Be Read As A Warning To Those Desperate For Easy Solutions.

You Stupefied Me. We Waxed, Carnivores, Late And Alight In The Beaded Winter. All Was Ominous, Luminous.

The Ellipse Is As Aimless As That, Stretching Invisibly Into The Future So As To Reappear In Our Present. Its Flexing Is Its Account, Return To The Point Of No Return.

A Perfect Example Of The New Republic's Urge To Drape Itself With The Togas Of Classical Respectability.