Tuesday, August 22, 2006

recycling an old sonnet

sneak in quiet
quiet is here since

i made it
new further
working day

the freeway
those plants
right at the edge
of a resting lane
the fast one aside

they grow
a little more
every day
greener and taller

where it should not

wonder if the cleaning truck
that dust off all freeways away
is going to get rid
-like an inevitable sword
of all of them

an enclosed image

their presence: sparkle small green
with dust of white flowers

a lost wave of a lost hand
if ever once
they happen to not be
if not there

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