Wait Watchers We dot

While favors their
cat paws of gnawing ironies

(better than barking dogs at defeat)
pack up for their
Phar-aoutings
survey of the grand estate
of their rarae intelligenciae,
Max-plaqued through time,
and flattening lingo by sparked place—

We allow people
to determine the needs they display
and move from there
to dignify with non-interference,

savoring
reflectives of other stars dug under reality as seed,
and how malleable its certainty,

a horrid clone, a rape, by which caged hallowing
you buffer tongue by its closure an insole treadless, a stabile.

Smelling the spark of ozone-coining air
Conning for the day’s matrix in robots—
the metrics and algo they apply:

likes, pauses, mutes,

and biometric eye twitter;

while field mice-lidded circus workers
give way to cold-eyed puppetmastery,

grand iron-eye,

that fined its Michael 

inverting and panderous,
the seconding derivative of sensories
after netting and little big-manning its brain:

the year-turning heavenly sign,

Jonah-cored sky and go(u)red calendar—
adventing Merkabah' shovel, kabbalah-zode-denying,
grace where some would shutter
than continue,
where maximized grotesqueri
laments and shuvels (Matt. 17.17)
dianoia’s heart buckling cogito
inside history’s red ribbon--
false peace and authority.

Its escheat eschat of decorum
and norms of genre--

Esoterics now ever coopted
by the exoteric batter, the
nexus that wafts its attribune feasts with dangling big money—

abutting the simul, the fox where
doctrine vulses fully formed,

as an equinox poised now for charlie church, its trussed intoning
afternoon casketing the sun,

Athenizing by dripping timbre-e’en

creeking another horizon hutting,
its abbeding duaflashing star-rating

slumber, its flat pixel dawn with

icicles m/fissiles yellowcaking by mirrored winter,

unabided and unbidden.

[Douglas Blake Olds, March 11, 2026]