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Won’t you, Muse, Jupiter, or Lord,
Help me?—no, not with inspiration
Which Love or reading always has restored;
But help me with my modern situation.

I’d like to write, and well I sit,
And my thoughts reach, and swells my heart—
But what use is all that? So what for Wit!
When something’s near so shiny and so smart?

I mean that there my sleek smartphone
That, through its apps and algorithms,
So coaxes me I can’t leave it alone,
Stealing my time meant for iambic rhythms.

So help me if you deign, Apollo,
Or you, his daughter, Calliope,
That I may sit, on that device not wallow,
And often for good verse to follow hope.

Keven Balderas

Keven obsesses, nearly to the point of madness, over a new interest every two years. So far, his interests have included Latin, drawing, skateboarding and photography.

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