Ideas and thoughts dawn on us now,
not how the great poet once envisioned,
from the mysterious other world.
They, instead, startle us like night raids,
like drones in the sky,
like riots encouraged as negotiations,
like suicide videos in high resolutions,
like diapered adults in sweatshops,
like biometrics in the grave,
like knowledge disseminated as shame,
like television sets in refugee camps,
like stale food disguised as mann-o-salwa
...
all the angels,
the poet should know,
were incinerated by targeted missiles.
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