Put away the tin soldiers.
Line up your schoolbooks.
Here comes the world.
I know clouds, the leaf-strewn air.
The crows are gathering.
Mail arrives on horseback.
Light will end its dance.
Be careful when you sleep.
The white will return.
Be careful with voice.
What the star charts don’t say.
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john mann poems 
This one works for me, and yet I sometimes feel you’re locked into a form and cannot understand why it’s important to you since the elements of your poetry I admire have less to do with line counts and short lines than sentiment, surprise, and ideas. The form you use seems arbitrary and I would like you to explain that to me someday. I’m probably missing something. I want your exhortations to be imprecations–curses! The exhortations work many times but curses are better. This is because you come off as a insecure prophet in some poems. Prophets are never insecure; rather, they are insane. These are insane times, John! Rise to it! Rage! Rage!