The Weekly Blurb ("Santa Clara's Most Read Publication") arrived as usual on Wednesday.  Independent as a two-headed calf, he thought.  And verbally challenged.  Inexplicably though, in Letters to The Editor:





an eight letter word


I-am the world plumber

the District Attorney

Bob Dylan

your Aunt Martha

the compost


I-am the bird in the tree

spider in her web

and yes, yes, yes

your dirty Uncle Sam




 wonder who I-am

but don't you already know




when star dust has settled

and newspapers sleep

the screen stares blankly

dark, forgotten screen

without power

lacking reach








tree hulks ponder

blue silent sky

a blinking light

trails through horizon's end






the origin of forgotten times


and birds are hushed



as the world goes dark

who needs it?


quietly the truth is here

unmoved as mountains unseen

deep beyond satisfaction