I fear for those with whom I am acquainted
Ignoble passion
When one bears the weight of the whole world
In which all organisms
Born hatched or sprouted
Cultivated with diligent care
Or conceived upon impulse
Or in oceans generated by a cloud of gametes
Suffer
Suffer and die
Near and far
Die too soon and at a length of suffering

Predators prey and the lifeforms
That break down and reprocess
Necrotic substance
All is fitting
All is appropriate

Ah the abstraction world the abstraction suffer
The worry
The gathering symptoms
Which demand interpretation
Which demand formulation in language
And who possesses such skill
Not I clearly

Bad poetry unworthy of the name
The dunces triumphed ages ago
I am their inheritor
Sickly corpulent compulsive
I did not create myself
Nor have I succeeded in turning the tide
The bathetic legacy technically augmented
Contemptible fragments of the one bitter truth

The skillful advance their programs
With purpose and concentration
And when they succeed
The results show balance
Which in turn reflects discipline

I am a disordered person
In tune with a disordered age
With dire propriety
But the march toward order continues apace
Not an order perhaps of which one would approve
As a corpse appropriately emits a stench