Poetry

O, Mighty King of Igneous and Summer,
Cape the earth within an icy quilt
And freeze the damned in their cots.
All without enough covering
To remain warm,
Yet enough food alone to remain strong ---
Freeze, mighty King.
Let their knee caps grow frigid
And their lives cease to exist,
Then tomorrow
They’ll wake up in some fancy mansion of nothing
Where trivialness is everything and
Everything is trivialness.