151021

151021
Outatime

Thirty years since Marty McFly
Flew way up high into the sky
The car was Doc Brown’s time machine
They landed in Twenty Fifteen
The trilogy got some things right
But it could use a good rewrite
More internet less fax machine
Three Sharknados not Jaws 19
We did not get our hover boards
Self-lacing shoes, or clothes backwards
But that’s okay don’t be sour
When lightning strikes the clock tower
Make sure you’re going eighty-eight
‘Cause these movies are still real great

1230

1230
Your emergency is not mine!

It’s never too late
To try and frustrate
Your indifference
Is making me tense
If nonsense persists
Your face meets my fists
Please listen next time
To prevent a crime

0825

0825
A Cornish bumblebee

An August Midnight
By Thomas Hardy

I
A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
On this scene enter–winged, horned, and spined –
A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;
While ‘mid my page there idly stands
A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands . . .

II
Thus meet we five, in this still place,
At this point of time, at this point in space.
– My guests parade my new-penned ink,
Or bang at the lamp-glass, whirl, and sink.
“God’s humblest, they!” I muse. Yet why?
They know Earth-secrets that know not I.

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