Schrödinger Spots

The Leopard
Look, and look again,
Before you go leaping,
Leaping like Tigger on a spring.
Was Pheidippides’s guerdon not enough?
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
Unvarnished deemster is the fossor,
Death’s shaken up dhëndër.
We cannot slow the blow,
Oomf would know,
At least, those shown to be cerebral.
When smarts akin to a cudgel
Interpret news of yestereve,
Last night’s insights may well leave.
Look, and look again.

Go, Tiger!

Tiger, Tiger

I mean, dear fatuous repat,

Who hasn’t at some point felt that?

Art is now

The compensatory lengthening of time,

The gnomon shadow

Of a pocket pork dial.

It finds futuristic us

Over the hill and far away,

In a sarít of crafternoons

Filled with tactical spoons,

Former ferocious firecrackers,

Now obsequious moist squib simperers,

A corrupted few

Living the dream

Of the incompetent many.

Coming Clean

It will all come out in the wash, they said. No. Maybe Sekia’s escaped rodent tried to hide in the dishwasher and came unstuck? No.

Oh well, there’s always clematises and cats to calm the waters.