The square (with as many lines as syllables per line) is a poetry-form that has existed for centuries and is now enjoying a revival. Here are three small squares that come from my concerns for the precarious imbalances we humans have created within our natural environment.
There is no
place to throw
that's away.
If icebergs melt,
what metaphor
to use for the
hidden problem?
Conquests of
nature are
mistaken.
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