Coming Second (after W.B. Yeats)
Turning and turning in a plastic gyre The Garbage Patch grows silently. Things fall apart, degrading into plastic pills and Floating Barbie heads are loosed upon the world. The plastic-dimmed tide concentrates in filter feeders. The innocence of tossing bone over shoulder Should have died with the Neanderthals. The best want more stuff, while the worst Slave […]
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