Bolton returns to the fold
VOICES blurred and incoherent, swirling in vortex loch
Irons’ cries cannot reach Wrk;
Adminstrations fall apart; the Pfhorums cannot hold;
Brainless listing grips the community,
The youthful tide is loosed, and everywhere
The pride of Marathon is drowned;
The best, exhausted, have all 4GOTten, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely TGI:B is at hand.
The Gray Incident! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image from JFO
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the forests of Minnesota
A shape with a bulbous nose and daggers for teeth,
Eyes lidded and craw full of Mariusnet meat,
Is slowly texturing its floors, while all about it
Fly protestant posts of vulturing mappers.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That six months of stony stillness
Were vexed to nightmare by semester’s end,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Simplici7y to be born?
