for once, a little write.
*
We came around the corner through no door/
In the calm of a caught murmurWhere still is a still worth waiting forOne might advance the sentimentThat dud rockets…
I haven’t been far
To placate all I ought,
If I were to infer,
When the discourteous cameraman at the massacreWent ahead and asked the red-faced, blood-died man there“How it feels”
In The Bad Lighting, Man, His Medicine, First Draft
“In a maybe might/”