You've been good, bad, in-
between since paeans from
Brodsky de-broadsided your
ship-wide alert systems;
we responsives, we hold
your blues to be shelf-
evidence that the end
crimes are upon us, our
beginnings seem begat
as you spit us out and
become the pantheon
that we wished would
be us.
Such as it has become,
you are no longer
willing to accept
our trite offerings,
you've become our
stern caretaker,
our professor of
professing professional
truth, fact, opinion,
well-trained expertise,
all washed away by your
indications that definitions
will no longer keep us up
all day.
We may sleep now, we
peoples of the books,
we have done our day-
duties and scrambled
the eggs of the night
to tell you, dear word-
glyph, you are our
sweetest demon, our
mangiest curd, our
devoutest magazine.
With fear, respect, and silver tongue jewelry,
Subjects
Roman Ryan 