Poetry

BOXES & CIRCLES

Unhand me dear maiden of these edges,
Unhand me dear maiden of these edges.
I do not seek to be put in your hole,
I do not seek to be put in your hole.
Polygons of freedom, squares of the dead,
lend me your ears, so my words don’t go unheard.

Rhythm of existence, Vitruvian mold
Rhythm of existence, Vitruvian mold,
make more sense to this imperfect flesh
make more sense to this imperfect flesh.
Hold out your origin, call your mother
use the lines of your lips, be a father.

Round your heritage, burn your ego
Round your heritage, burn your ego.
Make of our souls, squares for the feet
Make of our souls, squares for the feet.
Do not bandage our freedom, open the courts
Open the krakens heart, run its sports

Learn your orbit, straight the path for foot
Eat downward be careful about the root.
The take on the ways directed by a star
either horizontal like the ocean spreading afar.
Hold your gut to the beginning of the end
when in round holes, peg your squares to not bend

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