How wrong is this? And how long must it be wrong?
These published poems suck!
Yet obscure my flower of song.
Rosalinda, it’s OK.
The brain struggles into the eyes.
We are waiting for the universe to align
(and the waiting is exactly the universe’s size.)
Airy you are! But according to this book, you’re a fire sign.
According to Webster’s, definitions abound.
But who commands them now into sound?