Gulliver never traveled through this
depth of bullshit and pretense,
probably would have stayed home
rather than wash up on shores
of bitter beaches calling low tide
abandonment, high tide
an attack from the sea; entitled sands
believing they should glitter and sparkle
in the half-tide with safe shallows
dotted alongside
those treacherous breakers,
filing insurance claims to collect
on damages to castles
built to collapse, blaming
the ocean for the shifting
sand, dunes changing shape
with the wind.
The tide won’t stop changing,
coming and going,
drawn by the moon
to conquer the stupid sand.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.
Intertextuality is my passion.
Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.
My words are mine, not a robot’s.
MA English literature, CofC
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