Enough flawed attempts are beauty
to declare, all these kluge responses
to superstructure's query... How can she fill
a feral montage? How can she live on earth
and what can she not afford?
How much land allocated
to whom assigned?
& whom assassinated?
A pair of lions grace
the front of the lawn,
the sisters survive. Bees shock
sense, reflection. Flat wood, veneer
become a better forest. I can't see the trees
for the shitty. Again, waste equals food,
but this time further east, with feeling.
What is the sum of 8 and 9:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.