No Otter

Ever'thing, Floetry

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.

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