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To Anaxamander In Alexandria During, Say, The Reign Of Ptolemy III, "Eugertes"
Unable to compete with all those scrolls---
the Library's collected poetry---
you scribble tattered pages, fervently,
hoping that your expressed philosophy
will help the uncouth understand their souls.
And yet you never quite understood yours;
and no amount of poets' metaphors.
You really are uncouth, unread, ungallant---
poor, with few pennies but not one full talent.
Your name, without fame, utterly unknown,
will be forgotten: you will lie alone
in some sandtrap, without a marking stone.
Starward
[*/+/^]
