Free verse! Viva verse! Dragged from its cotton caves

To the muddy waters of slow sunlight

Gathering in pools around my muddy eyes

Twitching like so many provincial, prim-laced cyanide windows

Of the archipelago where the clay armies go

To flounder, like a presidential campaign, in the mire of words.

So many tired bones rest in the silver silt,

The discarded scales of Shylock, abandoned by Lady Justice

And polished with her guilty tears, torn, slipshod by

Lincoln and his familiar, the spider monkey of Eygpt,

As, looking on, Stradivarius saws Germany in two with

A heart grinding gesture of the hand,

Effortless and undutiful. The marsh land glows in

The clandestine assasin night while the finger nail

Moon modestly shone fine beams of golden birch

To raise a rose

In my eye.

RATE THIS BRANCH!