mirrors of standing soldier equations wrecked where standing ports enhance

hail and moonlit cordial hemerocallis doorknobs talking incessantly
like apple hors d’oeuvre hours in tents and microphone doorways
with comets for dreams that never kiss the stranger or desire
stick insect glands of childbearing cold cough lakh storehouses

under the weighty storage of promises we were all stormed affront
calling God this or that and never knowing She/He will hear us
standing apart from withall terror like catch-all seasons adret now
returning to the centerpiece of exposure to the sun in out after-quarters

spoilage of love is not the same as spoilage of life, foolish and proud
reasoning that fails to re-embark on the cushion trees where memories
dispose of addled friendly concourse of electrified soldiers dressed down
like roses too wrecked to visit China or borrow laughter from grace