Into the green assault
we go,
beyond all glass machines
and graves.
A giant tongue
studded with eyes and ember
takes the lion home.
Here rise valleys
screamingup toward leopard skies,
lifting out of needle towns,
pulling monsters from the dead.
Great coffins
hold honey comas,
a homely retreat.
Young Colossus,
stand fierce
above the lime wasteland.
Be safe
from war and angry crowds.
Unite the tides,
stone and cloud our strength...
@ Steven Francis Poetry 2008
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