How can I sign cards now with The world
is your oyster
or The future is yours

when by all accounts the world is daily going
and gone to the dogs, i.e. the one per cent

who own most of it all anyway but are bent
on squeezing every last resource into their vaults?

We got a catalog in the mail once, addressed
to the former resident: glossy page spreads

of smoked fish, pearls of black caviar. Who
eats this way? For whom are such price tags

a trifle, nothing? The grit lining the shell
grows lustrous. We dredge the bottom swells.


In response to Via Negativa: Response to Descartes.

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