knowledge is being trimmed
razors cut up sonnets, and soliloquys
novels become novellas, then snippets,
then an AI paraphrase
words pronounced. Correctly!
a chorus of hollow words echo
in cement block rooms
they call this "literacy"
classic novels fade yellow
pages fall
to empty bookroom floors
trodden on and swept away
- slow motion Fahrenheit 451
the tired monk looks on
with sad eyes
and writes a new song
Wild Woman's eyes - and heart - are sad too, Ollie. But I am glad you keep writing songs and I keep writing poems. Our gentle, weary resistance.
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