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