There are no more islands in the sea
where
we can hope to find
buried chests,
coconuts not yet picked over,
strange creatures, that,
in our curiosity have not fled
from harsh footfalls before.
There are no more results
undiscovered, unexplored
the test tubes have yet to yield.
The findings have sought
to determine.
There are no more words
I haven’t stolen,
Beaten, and strung together.
There are no memories
you’ll retain from this
aspiration for originality;
If you see that horse
rotting in the lawn,
kick it for me one more time
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