SONNET 103
In the teardrops of heaven, a weathered opal
And frigid callouses hewed with banana leaves
Coat through unfelt the worthless and sundered dials,
Deep blue 'nd gold though lost bees the thousand dyes evict.
A hidden noose had always kindled every pine
Had mesmerized not this cruel thesis, but price sublime:
Everything charges all then dwindled mine,
Not karmic, yet charity's lack t'commit revise.
Strange fog hugs potent fangs, dreary in harangues
Most none instead love's majesty enthrones are stung
Govern'ng these murals via mold confess love, hurt,
Lack of motherly'r fatherly, or simple mirth.
Where void is any quiet, blameworthy riptide,
Dimwitted want entertains 'stead here this sole mind.
