Crucible of Dreams, how much Easier
would be the Ease of Reality. By epic
comparison, pardon our Rust, we are
old souls, the fools, musicians, and locos
poetas who Compare to the Night's Scope--
its Mystic Eye as Emerson called this,
an Iamb, I am I am a Poet Ashamed
as Bill Williams for all of his Gnashing
Love, Vision, Imagination, will Love
ever Return from both ends Above, See
for yourself, Senators, those who hold
office in the Government and whose who
do in the Cultures-we deserve more than
they by our Volume of Sincerity and their
Inapparent Embarrassment, Esos
Sin Verguenzos of common parlance.
Orale, our voices are Stubborn in their
Humanidad. Stop with your Pedo, Do
something, Vato, at Least you Honor me
estupido Diablo SereSere.
Dream Act Hell Yeah. Their Laurels Untainted,
are Famous for making a Spectacle
of Youth-Performatifique, PhD guey,
you can use some Pride in Humility.
Yes, it Exists, it's called a Compounded
Emotion. Feel the Love for my Freedom
It is a love that INCENSES Me. I'm
a Poet like Dickinson, Williams, oh
precious Crane, Stephen, my namesake Edith
Wharton, her Fama good, bad and divided.
The Artist came first and then the Congress
the Senators next and they get Nowhere
without Writers who they Plagiarize who
they revise Unshamefully Disguised Liars.
Send a Message to Pearl born of Hester:
"keep it Up, little Changeling, Retain the
Flame of Your Hope as Pilot of Redress"
This Conversation became Appealing.
One is this Possibility Dreamscape
Re-Association of Words Cognant
a form of Poetic Title, Okay,
it's Poesy, a Rococo adobe wall
made of stone and cement, a conception
of the Hands. Hands of America Dream.
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