A bit disappointed by Manhattan
and the Grand Canyon,
but awed by my expectations.
Is has isness.  Has is hasness.
The wights and wyverns of memory.
The Unknower who unknows the unknown.
We must exceed the limitation of the lyric.
The way the verb remembers the noun
when it is gone.  Inclination as imperative.
Must we have the temerity to have the wherewithal?
How often the superficial must suffice.
But what wonders we made
on our way to destroying everything!
As if the choice were between poetry and atrocity.