Monday, July 07, 2003

Sonnet XXVII

clamped in a tough metropolis
ahead with ease over suburbia
the sun quotes hot flashes
over oceans and lakes
trees and the north wind, nature
calls for the baptism of your
soul, attached to metal's grip
a use of vices, metamorphosis
iron butterflies in concrete jungles
a little rock speaks of landslides
exaggeration of such a young child
run wild in the wilderness
run naked in your life
mother nature is calling for your baptism.

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