i wonder if he harms little children
to make up for his blind spots
---
tender fragrant grass, how
hard-hearted to trample
even if ye must
would you rest your
unclean hand on the queen's linens
or treat your infinitesome
sinews with the strain of
unwanted verse?
how queer it must seem
to each blade to feel
a heretic
when the grass has smiled
trinities of centuries
before any drill
was stripped
but we assume the
magistrate to train
this land as if
it were extraterrestrial
to us.
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