BEATNIK: A Poetry Collection

Asimov's dead

literature, like the

rest of the arts, has

finally become digits.

it is only numbers,

percentages, ratings,

adaptations.

the art of the short

story is limited to the

imagination of the

average dollar

champagne-sipping

book club member.

stories are just

the written

prototypes of

dramas yet to

be filmed.

talent is realized by

the fudged hyping of

gaggles who feed off

one another's inability

to recognize crap work.

novels are descriptions

of inanimate objects

while the characters,

nearly all self-inserts,

lack in build.

people see the

film before they

even realize the

book exists.

this makes

me sad.

that, and

Asimov's dead.