The lightning bolt turns to bees
Every poem unwrites the last

More smoke than heat
more steam than motion

The world is a small town
and its demons are never really banished

The news annunciates the clickety clack
of the diveted wheel of death

Highways offer a route hotels a roof and so on
Until it’s so obvious no cosmos could take offense

A true shortage of pure fuel and a rent hike
force Spill-O to sublet his tragic dimensions

and downsize his Tremendous Inquiry
to who has the best recipe for a chicken sandwich

– Colin Dodds