Cry tears of a raging apocalyptic cloud
proclaiming my undying love out loud
Wipe away a lonely shadow’s jet-black tears
Trample on seedlings dribbling my siblings
Bear the brunt of a polar bear’s molar
Go sip from the cup of gossip. Gift her
roses from Moses’ promised land, seen
by him, only occupied by cowardly lads
Murder ninety-nine mighty knights in
broad daylight. In death, they join forces
with the gods and make it rain all night
Could this be the magnum opus of a quiet
Moët consuming poet? A single quatrain
sonnet! See a bee mingle with a hornet.