Chicano Poet

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

The Homicidal Savior

carbon dioxide sweet to a flower
gulping it down

after I release its soft throat
having repented

I move on to the grass
whose blades take on a defensive posture

I prepare for a fight
I am no Wordsworth or Whitman

I do unto others
before they do unto me

with a shovel and hoe
I may yet save the world from do-gooders


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