— in re Percy Bysshe Shelley
midst the ebb and flow of human things
the brood of ignorance
crawls on the loathing earth
subjected and plastic, poisonous
and undying worms moulder there
the worm has made his meal
of premature and violent death
living pullies of a dead machine
tendrils of the parasite leave nothing
yet animal life was there
things that walk, swim, creep, or fly
grey light, so cold, so bright, so still
when will the morning come?
broad and yellow moon
but the mushroom of a summer day
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