I’ve crossed out lines. 
Relax and beware. Certain branches of law aim straight at us.
Avalanche, the pronoun, embodies unnamed subjects, overwrought.  
 
A starry equity or neurons? Words are beta fields  
That heat up while fertile at the edge yet a lost cause.  
And titles cost. Avalanche.. a virus.  
Cherries Hamlet.  
 
Broken final thoughts, giddy up, dead.  
Today I face thunder — how to pay homage...  
My instinct when asked is to inch back  
 
To the moody raw reflex jettisoning any  
Civil use of half-soothing words  
On top various legal points,  
The same points forward  
Of looking into what we broke.