Alite Sweet Swiftest Hour. Poem by Michael Gale

Alite sweet swiftest hour...
Arranged in rows of burrowing sweat dangling droplets
let a'glistening deaf dumb agile denial.

Abreasted unbested breathless infants crying in winds of innocent lifeless lies...
Alas, not heard is listless meaty tendered hooks just blowin' in
the match lit night skies overhead above all wanderlust eyes.

Behold and utter quiet shsshing stutter...
Suckle up close to the milk of the loving mother.

All is nice and warmly welcomed love inhued sprinkled rice patties of unrested yearning to sleep restless fluttering eyes.