wet dream
behind the dry wall
the yard surrounds
surrender
and sanctuary
the quiet
of an environment
with only a select
few of god’s chosen
creatures
I wake early
To get a sense
Of what I can’t detect
There’s a natural
Tendency of course
To exact
What can’t be
Extracted
I force
Through
No will
A shared
Dream
Of a bulldozed boulevard
The hammer blazing
Like it did in yore
A craftsman’s precise
Idea of a paradise dictated
By reason and the church.
©jim hill 12-04-10
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