As if potential of right combinations,
(at worst maudlin, pathetic)
an inexplicable fire to fashion
(at best) merely clever,
aesthetic turns of phrase,
were a thing natural
as the wheel and bank
of arctic terns above ice-packs
afloat in a shit-strewn sea-
not the exhibitionist urge to sing,
stand wholly shorn and tremble-kneed,
an uninsulated, raw-nerved thing
surrendering to impulsive electric deliverance.
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