It’s a Large drum that Sappho Beats! Every
Millennium requires One, to Thrash
the Kernel from the Plastic Wrap Ideas
that are Zipped from here to There
by a Mental Pollywog who doesn’t Shit
in proper receptacles and poisons Flowers
of the Imagination.~~Wasn’t he
the Man who oversaw Cuahetemoc’s
burning Petals? His answer to his Birth
his Lineage his Sacred Flower, Sacred
as Edith’s. Even when she’s in Trouble
and many have taken Jealous Vengeance
on hers simply because it's the Hour
of the Youth who breathed air from her Sonnets.
This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.
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