The prongs of a many-faceted emotion are carted
Off into parcels, mouthfuls of tasteless, morbid sums
And cancellations. They are bred anew for laughter.
The songs of a many-faceted inhumanity are dissolved
In a vestibule leading to languid quarters breeding a
New kin of steam, a strain too thick, too coarse to hide.
The wrongs of a many-faceted resolution of earth,
Dust, rock, and harm are given anew to semantics
Of pain and lacerated joy. They will be there tomorrow.
Gathering just-a-bit-o moss 
one of my favorite quotes by one of my favorite poets. Well done.
Thanks. This one from Eliot had lodged itself in my limbic system some time ago.
That was a really great poem! I like how it’s based on the quote too. I think that’s a good method for inspiration.
Thanks. In addition to inspiration, quotes help anchor these erratic poems of mine somewhat 🙂