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212 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1980
I feel
Very much
Like taking
Its unholy perpetrators
By the hair
Of their heads,
(If they have any hair)
And dragging them around
The yard
A few times
And then cutting them
Into small, irregular pieces
And burying them
In the depths of the blue sea.
They are without form
And void,
Or at least
The stuff they produce
Is.
They are too lazy
To hunt up rhymes
And that
is all
That is the matter with them
In a few generations letters will be obsolete. Everyone will talk to absent friends the world over by radio. It will be nice; but something will be lost with letters. The world can't eat its cake and have it too. And none of these things really "save time." They only fill it more breathlessly full. That may be all right for the young. But I look back to the old '90's with the feeling that they were a nice unhurried leisurely time.
New inventions crowd on each others heels--each more amazing than the last. But the trouble is--no one is happier or better because of them.