COBBLERS
I cobbled together
a Mary Shelley
using some
leftovers
from the
fridge
filled her lungs
with a breath
of Romantic poetry
stuffed her brain
until it was set
to burst
with every available
microchip
and soaked her soul in
a loop-feed running of
Kubrick’s
enigmatic
masterliece
that if
this
the genre
she was put on this Earth
to bring to birth
she migjt
glean
enpugh of a gist
for a
pure reboot
remind us
where it
all went wrong
where it
all
returned
to the slime
sank into
slick
death hubris