The smaller you become
The more I dig into the dirt
The men are impinging
On my solitary punch again
Master Prospero
I have Caliban arches
They were orchestrated
They have manipulated
I no longer speak
Rendered irresolute
A demonic rubric of cells
In your microscope
The circus of landscapes
You know others are fucking
In Eden like poses of the natural
And I cripple
Miranda has left me floating in the sea
Perched upon a distilling limb
Antarctican disguises override my
Caribbean lust - I am quipped
By you, the ethereal Master.
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