Nov 142013
Only when wisp and whim
Bellies the shakily belied
Sail's starch-white brim
Do we live unburied--

Alive to time, to time's
Intemperate, inveterate ticks--
The icy sublime
Of life's penultimate lick.

So, take of this cake
With me, mon ami: birth-day
Or death-day, take; take
The risen wheat, say

A voluble salutation
For your, for my, salvation!

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