by Spider Robinson

Tending to tension by conscious intent,

declining declension, disdaining dissent;

into the dementia dimension we're sent:

we are our content, and we are content.

Incandescent invention and blessed event,

tumescent distention, tumultuous descent:

our bone of convention again being spent,

I am your contents, and I am content

to be be be be dying...I want

to be be be be taking

all you have...

Assuming Ascension, Assumption, assent,

all of our nonsense is finally non-sent--

with honorable mention for whatever we meant...

You are my content, and I am content.   €

--New Bedford, Massachusetts

25 July 1989

Poem copyright ©1996 by Spider Robinson

(With unwitting assistance from Ted Chiang, former Clarion student and Nebula winner.)

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