Yearlong Sonnet-- Iteration 52

The mouth, marked by the calm color; 
& gender dirt moves into a blinked eye.
Distinction hurts distinction. That's why
Toward a person with no wand, crawler.
Marked by the ruby star hiss (or sigh.
Bad translation by Robert Bly.
The data still have a chain, and a collar.

You're not up to a sidereal net.
It's against the somehow.
That's the only way to fall-fly.
A history of the poetic oodling will get
you a rime or a wink on the sly.
I think it's a safe bet
the poem's a sty

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