Sunday, January 10, 2010

Manufacture of the Baby Pisa

Emerging from human abyss
Wide open like pupils of Moses on mushrooms,
Speaking with God

Showered with love
Then molded with the skill of a potter
To custom shape of perfection

A cat is beaten to a pulp
For wanting to know, and they stop
The mind that lusts to grow

Baby Pisa screams for support
For the chicken has not warmed its egg
And the egg rots. And the rotten gives birth again.

No comments:

Post a Comment