Thursday, April 12, 2007

Poem by Kurt Vonnegut

Requiem

When the last living thing

has died on account of us,

how poetical it would be

if Earth could say,

in a voice floating up

perhaps

from the floor

of the Grand Canyon,

“It is done.”

People did not like it here.

(c) Kurt Vonnegut 2005 published in Man Without a Country

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