"Fruit
If poems ever dropped into my hand,
If there was ever any time
In any land
When I had but to shake the bough
For the ripe fruit to fall,
It is not so now.
Today the fruit I want is fruit I pick,
I have to climb,
I have to reach,
I have to be both slow and quick
For each particular blue plum
Or golden peach."
--Robert Francis
"That’s not hardball capitalism. That’s polluting our culture for your own minor profit."
"IT CAME FROM OUTER SPACE (Anagrammed Lines)
It came from outer space —
a comet of imp creatures;
a curse of meteor impact —
to permute a cosmic fear,
to cap our mesmeric fate..."
--@anthonyetherin.bsky.social
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