burning is the sky
tired is the muscle
dirty are the ankles
broke is the reality
soil in the savior
tired are the limbs
feeble is the attempt
lonely as the basis
corruption at the roots
broke is the situation
tired are the eyes
tender is the rootball
sweat in the soil
policy in the temptation
few in the many
leaves of the last
roots from the garden
sun in the spring
tired is the till
shovels are arms
warped wooden legs
(here in the garden
poets are merely
trellises for the vines)
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