Tuesday, November 15, 2016


since Panthalassa froze solid
the grizzled chrononaut said
I've been praying for a bolide
or a burp that'd make the Deccan traps
seem a mudpit
but all I get are these ice doilies
they're everywhere, the telepathic chatterboxes
but nothing to say
mathematics! astronomy!
and now, diplomacy, now they're so thick
where's music? literature? green fields?
ice skating?
Earth's last winter
has nought for me

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