Does this world have any use for me?
Can a writer survive in a world that doesn't read?
I could write for television, perhaps
Journey through the vast wasteland in hopes of expanding it.
Movies are drifting to a dark, damp place
The days of Citizen Kane unfortunately long gone.
Perhaps pure poetry will survive,
Though the poets themselves may starve.
I will stand among the hungry with pride.
I hope it will not come to that.
I desperately hope it will not come to that.
I may be obsolete
But I still work.
Read aloud and watch the words run around.
Watch them chase one another across the ground.
Watch elegant As, and Os most round
Chase one another across the ground.
Sets them free
Free to play like you or me
To swim in a pond, to climb a tree
When you cannot read aloud
When shimmering vowels produce groans and growls
You can still set them free
By reading silent-ly.