Thursday, March 25, 2010

Fruits of Labor

Those who have the grudge roiling
In the pit of their stomachs,

That the plum should be theirs
Merely for the taking,

Shall have that fruit soiled
By the drudge slow worm

Blindly toiling.


  1. Wow! I like the intensity here, Vassilis. A syntactical feast....

  2. Thank you, Joe--

    Do I sense an underground pun at work here in your use of the word "feast?" :)


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