[sum polemta] (and apologies for this grave shallowness)
a
"..still unclear.."
pace prides the sympode's
lionized telodynamics
lionite bustworks
are carousel~
the lifting of resistance
tellurions
you are fallen to shadow
earth magnetic
you are fallen to shadow
the shadow
of shadows
all your safe sorrows' joy
cannot be made into dangerous law
biology
cannot be treated as such
and your good-hearted proverbs
are used by average plague doctors
beak-is-beak
spin-is-speaking
of witch doctors
I have yet to hear a single poet
mention the singularly thoughtful name
of Walter M. Elsasser, but then the lie
is our heavy topped slab.
Your science, Sere Mad-Am, is little better
than crank calling
an ancient juggernaut
so now the lazy murder
stretches, and yawns.
I'm sorry, but at this point
your meditation
makes you look
even more like
a wooden headed totempole.
