Reality (Scratch That) Science Fiction Poem by Brian Mattern

Fool-hardy times we live in,
boy when ya'll find the limits.
Creeping farther outward, 'this cirque is so tight.'
Funneled future's coming, til fascists own the day, the Night.
Don't believe me? Ask your brothers' ancestors.
From ground to car to sky so illustrious.
Rain over earth like Acid Wash Genes,
only to fall upon the Dead Gulf Sea.
Live it? we in it, we knee deep breachin' limits.
Faithless in our prayers, so stamp it VOID brothar,
an' just call it science fiction.