May 28, 2009
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I hate this form
that constricts me, like slave masters burning me
chains and whips blows and blows
not that I would know.

Put a restriction on me
and I’ll hate it automatically
set a fire to a wall of trees
to separate you and me.

It’s not enough to think or to ponder
about great things I never have or ever will encounter
I’m not that great but at least I don’t wonder
I don’t give a care for this supposed world of wonder

Sonnets are too hard
when there’s no damn inspiration

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