The prompt was write a dead end poem. I hate that.
No absolutely not
No absolutely not
No endings, dead or otherwise--- Mad Mar Walker (Mistryel)
are permitted in this poem
this is a living cascade
it will not stop this day
or any day to come
this life will
go on with or without me
with or without another poem
the little one-celled things
will stretch and divide
and the little wavy-armed things
will reach out and grab a meal
somewhere in the miniature,
a future of spinning orbs
until a black hole grabs
it all, and then who knows
what happens in there?
