Why do you try to write like an old man?
You are twenty-one - gold and purple
should stand sturdy in your garden.
break off all healing lustral howls
and welcome wintry frost upon your page
with steep-pinched, hard-shored resignations,
wisdoms ceded by the blooms who died.
Count quick shadows, enigmas,
make of them your inventory.
Enhance your boldness, your despair
of wanting everything, even what isn't there.
--Justin Vicari in Fugue