North American atheism as a quad of hope 
we never come across et tu a parabola intersects,  
a pedigree. Burroughs’ gestures are precise. Bright monied eyes.  
 
Sins tell the story. 
Sparkling motifs climb down  
— there’s a new quad-underground  
— we — some of us — avoid it. Beauty’s veil. Hardly objective,   
 
but a big badge realignment is authentic now,  
hyper-rufflers juxtaposed by an advanced sport.  
So let’s start with comfortable rectangular lascivious shapes,  “And all things turn to fair that eyes can see!”