Analogy

			By any means whatever 


Plenitudes still filling voids-drains, harnessed

The mother of all fucked prenuptial bonds, this force

Pumping into focus, so cotton fierce an instinct 


A vague collective zeal-a cell-a harnessed pen, a drain  

Buckling the fetters of an empty linen drape- 

This protection- being for detained there


Stuffing all the dirty men in pens-there now,

All this will not occur, and the impact with which it blows- 

Being no real source, still filling-a white, or what-and spreading


Thwarting-fingering, the limits of our impotence 

Coming in a minor force like this one-

Massive grave of signs-so desperate to refer


Still failing what the other means-"all this" is to what

As a floating blank-there being no real ratio , or being rather only that-

Is to becoming whatever won't allow all this to regenerate


Rob Halpern