Of DepressionI have to, in oft'd, shy away,cranny'd in withdrawl'd blearnot glisten on a beach's boast'd nude.I crave hovel'd aside where muchof 15 watts for lit alofts,not a window agape with glareor theatred by shameless'd.but rather of shut drawn drab by shadesor shutters's thatched. No, no,no outstands of shape, just backdropnever as of sprawl'd abundantbut out of sight like underseas'dmystery'd by fish in sustain'dthithering even affright'd here then there hid away'd.
-Russell Atkins
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