After ripping away the bandages
from his heart and mouth, the young truth-seeker
screamed and drowned in a flood that ravages
oppressed minds and makes noble thoughts meeker:
But as the water pulsed out from his wounds
something quirky happened: the room in which
he stood turned into old county fair grounds,
and a bold, younger him wound up to pitch:
The ball hit the target, and the walrus
was dunked, and he had undone this violence
by unplugging his veins in the chorus
of crystal of the glass house's silence:
This spelled out healing in the first degree;
he was hid at home, but now lost at sea.
urbansonnets 