Grove Pinion

Is all futile at best to be a song
a grove pinion for birds that know no tune
but just property for love and toil do they break
and lastly scorch for fain dove hallow moon breaks
matrimony does scission forget thee well
among the scoria and love for rote
feeble nihility does rub against thee
where nomism was not so great a cost

an obstructable knowledge economy
dies non where love is not eternal thanks
gives grievances existent for the parterre
in ruins diffuse what archives shine free
which no infarction with love that bids thanks
or manse does not give light for earth or air