Bluntly, somebody aspires
to what height forgotten
in the hoary mouth of history.
I turn the mystery down
for senseless surety, living it up
and living my life with burnt fingers.
Like the odor of cat piss, apathy lingers
in my inner gears. I am moved
by marvels other than the ones
we see in travel blogs.
How insidious the moon tonight
with its ocher glow.
Conundrum follows conundrum,
incessantly.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 