cold cold cold nights in this city    

   and the city is a compromise 
   its promise stone to  the 'wicked'  nights

  bearing down on south and the boats headed inland we cast anchor ... roughing the wine dark imbued sea forecast of wave upchurned wave breaker and comber toughing the 'long' wind .. the cape around twisting
  shining the unicorn    no longer afraid to leave our bodies ... the bats overhead .. the gods... the dew melting and  the 

      worrisome adjectives the ringing round the plates of decks and hooves words flying out of mouths high branched with the campaign old and new rustled by the feathers in the peak.. and beauty like a dog always howling baying rumpling its .. dogs at the plate ruffling their feathers... and Nobody shouts to me... dogs with feathers....? Monster of men and the hypoborean  fog Doggone to the holing winds... the tear of time...