turn, chant, repeat,
perhaps the process is invisible.
once i witnessed academic value
attributed to the ability to forget-
maybe sacrifice is inevitable, as
aborted ghosts of poems shed
easily as three-bagsful of respite
swung an arc, slam-dunk in the dumpster,
suffocated, far from the virtual tank where
swim their envied, living brethren,
memes against the streams,
currents of digital seas,
may even one of them weather it.