The greatest author who never lived was
illiterate from first to last.
Their name forgotten,
their talents unknown,
cruelty heaped on obscurity.
The greatest author who never lived
had seen no pen nor pencil,
had appraised the scribbling
and found no usage
for mending nets by the harbor.
The greatest author who never lived
had certain thoughts that lurked
like whales under the horizon
never breaking the surface
wide nets
