Tuesday, November 13, 2018
111318
Wells' machine was just the first
C 22, travelers were hopping
like fleas on a hot griddle
the whip of time, that snake
rippled and reformed
like nobody's business
reality seethed
unlicensed changes
egg-beaten memories
the Cats put a stop
let us live, of course
no cat works for a living
Labels:
cat,
cherita,
H G Wells,
poem,
science fiction,
sf,
time machine
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