Breezy Stories

        “Not spoiling it for later, yet few are
	So febrile, so flourishing, and I extract
	Digits from the Carolinas to fill out those days in Maine,
	Only now trusting myself, as in the latter period I had not yet learned to do.”
	 
        And on top of all this one must still learn to judge the quality
	Of those moments when it becomes necessary to break the rule,
	To relax standards, bring light and chaos
	Into the order of the house.  A slatternly welcome
	 
        Suits some as well, no doubt, but the point is
	There are still others whom we know nothing about
	And who are growing, it seems, at a rate far in excess
	Of the legislated norm, for whom the “psychological consequences”
	 
        Of the forest primeval of our inconsistency, nay, our lives
	If you prefer, and you quote me, could be “numbing.”
	Thus, one always reins in, after too much thoughtfulness, the joke
	Prescription.  Games were made to seem like that: the raw fruit, bleeding.