i blurbed

Homage, mockery, and compliment, the man/boy who fears death inhabits the aesthetics of himself (and as is the case, his friends) in younger days. Like bathing in a virgin's blood, "back roads leading/to garbled / sexual advances", Royer points his hands into your body and makes more than just the mouth move. There is an acceptance in this poem(s) of what is inevitable, showing a maturity, or stoicism, that years of snow reinforce, "even / the loveliest/things are attended/by/loss."

and need to write another one.