with modern poetry
i just ebb on the thought:
who, the, hell, are, you, writing, for?
it's not for me, i know that,
are you leaving reminders
for everyone else to mind
about how a termite in our ontology
burrowed and ate us
while the dinosaurs were hit
with a stone from Hiroshima
that too gave the most spectacular
sunset? either that or i'm just
not getting it... well given these harsh
realities of everyone being literate
and the old aristocracy abandoning
their omni Frankenstein...
and someone having to sit idiotically
at a supermarket checkout...
no wonder!