All did and none committed still
some escutcheons translate the past
other artifacts fill everything
a bright blue sky with silver blimps
and miscellaneous persons
asking where the rockets are
where where where
idling at the light, binoculars
the dead giveaway of the damned
such misfortunes plagued us
left us wanting at the throwaway
such small things they were, too
just a little killing and the like
later on a mountain and a slough
and words, lots of them, so many
even the vandals called for a truce
the going, in short, was rough
they were still darting into the shadows
the minions were out laying blame
the rest of us under the shade tree
so many were calling out, and that
would be my history of knitting.