The bones of fish are greatly missed when teeth
are filled with food. It’s a cartoon tragedy we
even need to speak at all. The lighthouse is
so similar, with its skittish bravado that
oscillates to those uncaring few. Brick
and mortar that is mere causation;
a recipient of happening. To them
we are but grey blots against
green, in mist that flares
periodically and dances
on the groaning
passing of
thick
rain.
Vast Imbecility 