Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Like watertower-columned porticos
of normalcy, this homebound stretch beneath
me links all movements undertaken sure
to ready town-and-tried Perchances. How
shall I have pioneered and newly loved
past mythic expectation hopes when all
is roads and intersections ascertained
by other passions others have maintained
and mapped and charted? Tied together fall
some million ditchweed flowers, timely shoved
in ordered fodder-bales that simply now
turn hay and dry and brittle pale. For pure
adventure, grant me like that weed to wreath
your shoulder; future hay today yet grows.

Ahh - the old home town?
My homebound stretch's watertower-columed porticos have long been obscured by mirror buildings. I ask people from my home town where they went to high school. Sometimes they think I care about high school and are offended. But really I want to learn something about their town-and-tried Perchances.
Thanks for the great poem.
JMP