Unfinished

I drink a cut so deep it breathes me wise,
as they tend to say I say
where one might bleed some danger of a truth
in a trapeze city fogged by blues.
Budding in snow's flaking paint, scaled in
Summer's discolored, blazing perfection
and charmingly lost, one Constellation soldier, melted
into wholesome, silent bricks that build a solemn house.
Daisy-chained, a child unknowing--seasons by, you're
afraid.

But lightning stars learn in thunder
A Purity that shines in hearty laughter.