What did you say up on that balcony
While the stars hung low and you spoke in holy undertones
Long lay the world
In sin and error pining
Irregardless were shining
Like ten straw-spun jubilees in the midst of catastrophe
Marching over inward upward
To victory or whatever
On
Monet colored canvases
With Renoir flavorings
Your brandishes and burn marks
Are all but replaying
Parisian cinemas, in black and grey
Reverse spectral fractal sputtering
Out in around
Hell or high water, get to high ground
High ground
High ground