tense, in the latest dense sense
genre in a milieu,
has poetry the last of the read
the meakest dead of a dead society;
her art heart words conflicting
with the quick signs of nascent
come hither
the bleakest nature of a coming and going
here now  culture.
I highly speak of her lost
virtues.
But whither I
among the
oranges we let fall
the apples rotted
on the trees
see seek the quick
prose
the way a novel
is now a novelty
today a
tweet hangout chat
is our way
to  ignomity