Growing old; mold forms in the interstices of a failed synapse.
Lapse of perspicuity, chronic acuity to life’s grim annuity:
Fixed fate of return.
Two burned out electrical impulses: “A” and “-ha.”
Think what you thought—you ought—
but what dreams that come numb your skull,
leave your mouth dumb, full with sand;
Stranger than this strange land there is no otter.
2 thoughts on “No Otter”
Nice. But I’d like to add a glass half full comment… The ability to recognize the pitfalls of growing old (or recognize anything) is the direct result of things dying prior to us. Only through the iterative process of living things reproducing in ways selecting for intelligence could we have gained our cognitive abilities (and living things always die) – fancy way of saying death is the price we pay for life. Not a bad deal!
Thanks! And we see what happens when people try to cheat death–Dorian Grey, botox, etc–the results aren’t pretty. So, here’s to Death!