fleet foxes
so the mind won't lie
and the arm won't set
and the bright red eye
isn't off you yet
so the words won't come
and the hand won't touch
and a midnight sun
doesn't look like much
as an iris contracts
facing the day
(i can tell you've cracked
like a china plate.)
when the world insists
that the false is so
with a philippic
as cicero
the tighter the fist