apparently posted a directive to people to write unrhymed sonnets. So here’s one:
Eden and Babylon are the same place:
gardens planned and planted in the desert,
artifice meeting divine directive
at the dry crossroads of life and gnosis.
Heaven and earth become unified here.
Within a boundary that is death to cross,
imported trees flourish in foreign soil
and spread their branches over bloodied ground.
Their absolute coordinates forgotten,
Eden and Babylon rise in the mind
as two separate, opposed identities —
lush parterres of carnal and holy love —
yet this one most beautiful paradise
has gates to equal its holiest trees.