A writer in another universe
Was feeling hungry, but he struggled on.
It takes so long, he thought, to write my verse.
Oh, where on zorg is my inspiration?
But during that last word’s long duration,
My earth was born in flame, cooled, lived and died,
Again in flame. And what a creation
Was that man’s desk! It was so long and wide,
Ten of my galaxies would fit from side
To side, within its left-hand drawer. A curse
Against his ineffectual god upon
His lips, ambitions to be big denied,
And health declining. Could things get much worse?
Life’s short, he thought, and put the kettle on.
Tue 1 May 2007
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