Another, to Shakespeare cxv.

"The Triumphs"

Madness & midnight there together lie,
And i don't know which one of them is dearer.

There, we have a chance--but don't ask why;
Faces in the depths grow ever clearer.

What here seems fates are there found accidents
And but for trifles turned: the poor, made kings.

I wandered there & saw, for all intents,
Granite melt; & abide, all fragile things.

If we can learn to trust in tyranny
Our pathway there will surely flourish best.

A fastfood line there slays incertainty:
You fling the speaker words, you know the rest.

Ruined loves around us glitter so.
Planted in my eyes, the triumphs grow.