If brains be gables & minds, say, the shutters
in a derelict New England Mansion
then intuition is in the
eaves & casements
the well-springs seeping into turrets & cupolas
of all other nether spaces.
These big, wide entrances are ourselves in all their splendor,
notwithstanding the Winchester Mansions
or Vanderbilt Estates where our
very personalities are laid bare
see antics give rise to attics
feed in onto themselves
where the Astor's of our alter-egos
are resplendent in rich pride of self
longing to manifest in lavish architecture
so redolent of wealth
yet see-sawing in, squabbling
their thread-bare servant quarters
where murderous passions
bare dingy walls and where stained,
yellowing wallpaper is harbinger to
further heart-felt quarrels &
what is unspeakable, gilded and more.
Manifold and many, recant and lament. Repent.