I'm really enjoying the poem a day at Giant Nylon Hair Net, so here's one of my own dug up from the vaults. Don't ask what it's about, I can't even remember writing it.

Krell Music
I once heard a recording made
By Krell musicians
Half a million years ago

I read the libretto:
'I fear your splendid spaceship
has foundered on rocks'
And stuff like that

I even visited the caves of their inspiration
Where fifty Krell Ariels
Worked their magic mining the future
With mouse-white hands
And eyes red as setting suns

What did they leave behind?

Not much
An accordion afloat in a sea of carnations
A wheezing pump-organ jutting from the sand
Miranda’s faded yellow wedding dress
The coming imprint of a human hand
And a simple message:

The eagle doesn't catch flies.