Looking over the screen

Into a blue home box
Rectangular comfort belies
The narrow range of visual pinches
That promise to salt my skies

In one image I write fiction
Chasing a Pulitzer Guise
Hoping to heave rocks through diction
A shattering ending denies

Meaning much made out of grass
Cut down to size once a week
Beetles eat the edges of raspberry bushes
The garden yard in which I seek

Covering tracks by making more
Each metaphor tells more than it shows
Uneven is the count of the score
As evidence comes to my nose

Acceptance rejection will do not a good
Effectively sucking the soul
Belief in faith misunderstood
Indexed fingers connect to the coal

Burning makes binary computational light
Pleasing and taking away
Overdone language is not just a right
It owns me with all of its spray

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