how about some poetry?
Master’s Degree (July 24, 2025)
Schools by men of past-time’s glory prescribe
visions of grandeur
for only two years of lost wages and a kitchen renovation.
You too can taste the plump air of the mountaintop.
Here is your oxygen tank.
The ascent is toil,
beware frost bite and the bear.
Markets make men who labor.
I sit and lament, dodging onus of effort.
Create wages and pontificate,
free climb and be free.
Beware frostbite’s mirages.
The ice caps are melting.
The plains may be desert
no rotting
just bare.
All agency of breath lies within.
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