Variety has made him king,
king of catalogs, a veritable
devourer of the merchandize page,
a purveyor of crowns and rakes
and raiment both sturdy and sheer.
This then, is his kingdom, indexes
extant, thrones aplenty hocking
everything man-made, those heavy
tomes lugged by postal carriers
being grimaced and often weighed.
And in said pages he can soar
with wings uplifting to the sale,
the power his to sate his need
from pillow case to pumpkin seed,
the world of things and mini-thrones
this king is want for right and rule.
Time passes much too quickly
gazing at abundance, drinking in
the tidal wave of mammon stock,
that which is either shiny or blue,
or soft or digital—from all there
is in the worldly sense, this cosmos
found via catalogs prolific—his is
a reign of choice.
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