Bricolage

There is a wildness in me
An ocean in a bottle
With a moist cork, I see
I stand a suppressed model
Of practicality,
Revving for full throttle
But for the wake of brutality
And all forgot, all
Sacrificed to creativity,

But there is something wild in me
And still it grows, and still I thirst
For open fields, and free
Paints, and notes, and words
And time and space to feed
What be the best or worst
Or wildest escapee-
All unheard, and all unversed,
La Pensée Sauvage will be.

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