Monday, February 1, 2016

As Good As It Gets

So sick of hearing 
Of the death 
Of this unacknowledged 
Legislator of the world 
And of that, I cannot 

But think in these mean times 
How many have come before 
And how many are yet to come 
And how many after that— 
A distressing, unceasing line 

Of well-meaning poets 
Dead or alive or yet to be 
Strung out and scrawling across 
An indifferent, chaotic universe— 
It doesn’t get much better than that. 

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