On Ada

I take water for granted and indulge
in far too many showers
There were a thousand just today
Have become an incorrigible
waster of water.  There Aqua, Marina

Gilgamesh dripped primary, I’m told
Etched in stone and scribbled on thereafter
Was readable once but now needful of readers
Picture pictograms, picturesque, picaresque
Grim grinning ghosts it soppingly birthed

That great dripper there is proud of this mouse
Unoften do mousies find themselves
at the feet of beached blue whales. And
even unoftener does mousie see the
whole of the whale. Still the blue beckons you

But what is that blue and have you ever seen one?
Do you know what that blue is when you finally see one?
Is the blue pure ba-loo, pure ba-you, pure blue blowhole?
If you dripped your own blue would just nonsense accrue?
Can we hope to subdue our just bathing in blue?

Try anagramming insects, defining supine
Give them directions in three words or less
(He’ll tell: Sinister, Sinistra, Sinistrum) or
Betray eavesdroppers with just whispering wind
I drip and I fail: density circumscribes indents in me

We read them well, and as well as we will; 
they bend themselves and they breach
below brambles, they blend beneath brushes
They shade and they loom and I quake in the rushes
Grim grinning ghosts are not pouring from mine

The scattering wind shatters reckless habitats
Indecent indentation. We are a titillating triumvirate
(Me being a third of the whole of the blue
and floundering with oceanic masterwhales)
Grant me nothing short of piecemeal and well received

I take water for granted and indulge
in too many showers
All this water wasting is indecent
I should beg me to stop
Azure marina, dry aquamarine.

A native of the Tri-State area (he's not telling you which), Matthew Broad received his education at New York University. Utterly unemployable, he ventured out of that majestic concrete metropolis to the Left Coast, where he is, in Los Angeles, trying his best and mostly failing to sell out.