At Any Rate

Elegant transmission signals
discriminate rather wildly, you’ll find
(if you were to bother thinking much about it).
Well, we’re thinking form over function here, right?
Or is it function over form whenever possible?
Who can even remember anymore anyway?

At any rate, instead of bit-champing
and tooth-gnashing, I’d rather have
a consistent plateau of mountain plush toy friendliness,
if you know what I mean.
And of course you don’t know what I mean;
I don’t even know what I mean
most of the time.

It’s an issue, I’ve been
trying to get out in front of it
(and it’s just kicking my ass, man).
So I’d eventually like
to reach the point where
I can talk to just about anyone
about just about anything,
and that’ll satisfy me
in lieu of actual achievement in this life.

Milquetoastery

Full, rich dunwoody grey
Eisenhauer beetle nuisance contraptions–
nether regions never unlinked.

Stoneworthy boysenberry preservatives
prattle on for the sole purpose of
gentrifying the least-suspicious ones
of any given group:

those righteous pioneers
of evangelical milquetoastery
who never fail to make straw hats
look more elegant on anybody but them.

Straw hats, beanies, pork pies,
snapbacks–their notion
that any headwear
is better than
no headwear
is a flat-out lie.