SONNET 96
Dry in the tall grass, guns and goons will camouflage
But how lost, conscious battlefields extended here
Amongst where I have to go, nowhere both afar
But evil. It reaches us in those streets to peer
In our breast to home, to monuments, candles hear
The niches seer'f quiet wars so undermined,
Left such the stupor like a crescent moon gush near
On its waters; we lie a ranc'rous mountain lies
Us where, o but why? What does mine matter? Espy't
Sets still Subic nears whimp'ring drunkards over bay
Despite my hatred of them, cease epitomize
A walking ways kind meeting's constant, coarse, and fray;
Chirpy, but vile; rapt, but play, moves 'side th'under-breath
Says the dew fall'f names, yens, solipsisms -- bereft.
