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Vacuuming in a Dust Storm

I'm not an enthusiast of cleaning. Sometimes though I work too hard for something as simple as finding the right words.


Vacuuming in a Dust Storm

Hark Uriel! Hear my sordid cry
I'm steam ironing in a monsoon
Pressing words that flatten and die

I'm dusting in a Sahara storm
Searching out the mechanics
Of meter, rhyme and metaphor

I offer you a piece of amber's sap
To match your tresses gold
Exchanged for words you hold entrapped

Let go! I implore, you have many more
Not that I would manipulate, I've a
Manipura's golden Heliodore!

Or must I tempt the tricks of Mercury
Swift of words and feet?
I'd run to catch a word from Hermes

But it's game among the Saints
Who gave us words and worlds
I see a desert canyon in need of paint

To inspire the Gods and spheres
Working my way until I hear
My words have moved the lyres

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