Biotech research
creeps forward, with
nurgatory increases
in the partnership
of Arachnids and robots.
“STOP!” I want to say,
but the telescopic eyes of spiders
only pause in their writing –
the scratch of a quill
on the flesh of a proto-thespian –
and spit out a three-by-five index card,
stained with the blood of cherries,
with five notes repeated
in an endless song.
5 comments:
I began thinking great. I've read it three times so far, it has improved each time. I'm now thinking very fine indeed.
Thank you Dave :)
Oh this is my favourite, wonderful poem and horrid illustration! (superb of course)! But spidery....
Thank you Gina :)
Super! (You continue to awe me.)
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