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The Naming CeremonyTo Derick Varn's previous piece     I Fancy Myself a Dharma LionTo Derick Varn's next piece

Tricked by a word-
or so it seemed, 
	ideals that bleed
on fertile ground
color the grass
	A mad man's meter,
soft-spoken sly tongue
	that forks your 
	with Platonic forms.
If poets muddy their 
	waters for depth,
then they clear those 
	waves to let
		you drown.