Young man,
you predict myself to my face.
Giggle-snarl.
And also, you may be right.
But, hush and do not assume
you just keep those precocious eyes closed,
precious.
Pressingly and curiously
like a street legal switchblade,
a switchboard operation.
Useless matter does not
deserve smashing
just a quick slashing.
Diamond cutters crying with
those backseat jumpercables.
I missed the film but
I want to watch the movie.
My cellular telephone
likes to automagically
Prompt me.
It told me, after I typed /i/,
‘don’t get internet culture.’
Howl.
Didn’t you k/no/w the anxious
(ancients) taught music
And, invented time
For others?
They were just counting to eight,
Again and again, and, it
Turns out that this moves time forward
And that this everlasting, temporary
Retrograde is the forgotten remembrance.
WrittenCasey 