At last—
can you imagine
how anything
halfway decently enduring
ever got written
before this
latest, au courant, up-to-
the-minute
master creator
was given
his benevolent druthers, his
capricious dominion—
to whoosh back
and obliterate all offenders
to the missive
with quick
cataclysmic bolts
of sterilizing lightning
waggled from the
merest tip of his
fat itchy
pink and bald trigger pinky—
two, three—wait,
half
a dozen times now, at
least?
