the earnest flower of hinterland
can we escape this
dystopian land?
if only touching hands
would help this dreamland
most of us have planned
for the morrow
though we still misunderstand
the earnest flower of hinterland—
consensus of hyssops
don't interpret me,
language of false complaisance;
for we are humans
whether you like me or not,
to say you do is just fake—