1. Indecision?

Someone else's love poems, disguised?

My very first sonnet, what will you be?  

Six poems torn apart and sodomised?  

Or a sudden gift, the minims sung by a tree?


Maybe, you might ponder my own demise?

Capture the fading words of a lover?  

France together, if we could close our eyes

or the entendre of a word, culture?


You could grow from a performative hand  

the tail of a ship, the flower of May?

An old pilgrimage to a promised land  

or send up form in a contemporary way?


You might be so grand you call for commission  

but all you will ever be is my own indecision.

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