Poetry

It was a fake time, 
moon will not rise. 
 
Words were afloat 
on junk dna. 
 
A stonefaced pseudonym 
dies point-blank. 
 
The surprise, the speed 
was not on our radar. 
 
The ravenous siblings 
now asleep on walls. 
 
Naive or disingenuous. 
A sitting Buddha will decide.