In the geography of my narrow yard
Lies no country I haven't explored
Or should I say exploited tricked
A few blue Grecian flowers
In a democracy of weeds
Over there sleeping in the east
A shiny Spanish honeysuckle
Where the sun stays most
Clipped to climb an iron trellis
And lure the hummingbirds
To war over their daily nectar
And my prize desert rose
I can barely keep alive
In the Iceland of my eyes
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