mmmcmxx

asserted with certitude

isn’t as redundant as
sloppy seconds. unless,
of course, you’re as foul-
mouthed as she is (i am).

gather ’round children, a
tale is to be told. it’s quite
taller than me, but way
shorter than earth’s

last gasp (egad!). mealy-
mouthed mop-heads be
happy, for sadness is
irredeemable. why?

’cuz liquid’s in demand (
take my scorched earth,
please!), unlike liquidity.
we take up too much

space within a thinning
atmosphere (upon this
spinning sphere) wherein
we’re soon to be vaporized;

wherein there ain’t no vapor.
“crepes or pancakes?” ask
the upper crust all crusty-
like. “cakes or pies,”

says i, my eyes so wildly
on the prize (the game
show door slides open,
johnny olson trumpets

“a box full of brand
new mildew!” a box
of brand new. bran
flakes were breakfast

once. now we get
our mildew shake,
return to the set
like strutting

turkeys, stutter
our dialog, all
monologue,
engagement

no longer
a human
bean to
bean

thing
but
some
thing

jean-luc picard
once wittily did
not sing to his
engineering bloc.

and the stars
shook wildly with
in the wake of
the starship. amen.