Terminally Registered Dispatch

(This is the poem Last Recorded Transmission after having been subjected to a thesaurus and further modification.)

We shatter settled this exotic land;
we deviated in a phantom vapour,
perplexed those whom we didn't understand,
and tried to write it down on bits of paper.

We're primal carnivores, our ululation
gone flavourless with age, and now tepidity
has underawed the tranquil adulation:
we're shocked by frequent outbursts of rigidity.

Logic denies us supernatural highlights:
sometimes to rise above the vassal's spectre.
We're beings monitored through tinted skylights;
I marvel at this butterfly collector.

It's useless to coerce without disruption:
am I consumed, or is this rank corruption?

© Peter Howard

first published in Envoi 1996