Wasn’t it further
any flare?
Even rarer
became the shuteye of the starer.
His face averted,
lashing himself for the valedictory staccato
of his will-o’-the-wisp
looked set on the pleasurer.
Longer than an epimyth
had milled about the downslopes
the forthright wayfarer
to harbour his quixotic hope!
preened for his aright scoop the plunderer.
The whisperer, in taming his clamouring mouth
bespoke the roarer.
This is hardly the case for a put-off,
when you have kept passing by the runoff,
occluded his own echo the obscurer.

Such non-starters!
Blow the expense,
the letter-perfect hachure
along this coupure
will be in black,
clinked to it the outfighting leveller.