Aware of his flowery tongue
(See 'Elevation' a.k.a. 'Early Morning Light') ,
Bloating in their own quivered sweetness,
Twilight flowers despair at coming night:
'For us, it is a question excesstential.
Tell us of your human plight.
What do you bloat yourself with
To get you to the night? '
douglas scotney
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/b-xxxxxxi-the-excesstential-question/
