Thursday, July 5, 2007

Weekly Sonnet 9

(This Voyage) 1947-1937-1810-1687

How do interstellar travelers not
manage to avoid a vast, blue, dusty
 ball as this, brilliantly quaint in wealth;
and if their intent were sinister who
of our mundi systemate would leer?

Do we eat canned foods still as if it were
 the Second World War for profit and health?
We need certain things to be slow to rot.
It does (El sol
salió a) appear
to be edible (noche). A rust-(y
me cant
ó!) y can holds meat to be sure.

Rug pulled from ’neath you, would the others’ shoe
slip just as easily after hum-flam
were exacted; would be as just a sham?

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