Fractally speaking, the curvature is
Abound with nuance, and it is plush.
It is plush so that it becomes a seance
Of actuals and rarefied tropes, and
It plush. It is plush so that the crown
Of slope meets the derivative of hope,
And it is plush. It is plush so that
The limbic blush cuts the panic rush
In half, threeways, fourquarts, quite
The opposite of plush, but it is plush.
I have instructed the soul searching caricature
To commiserate with the yak-yakking blue heart of
Noon. I have demonstrated the heartless wander
Lust peeking at the sought after, the dung heap of
Historical amnesia. I have leveled suitable allegations
At the savory conniption, the bulbous inkling of faith
That descends the ivory tower, dissolves with crushed
Stone. I have cremated the bureaucratic pith of home.