R/ckets and S/ntries

the aliens said, spelling ends today. we were scared to brain. what if these hyper-intelligent creatures saw into time one word at a time? could they do that? we looked at each other as one conjoined disturbance reliving the fear of something that could be. is poetry about to become final? are there days when dreams are further than words, but then words make a come back? 'holy cow' was one of the expressions someone used in the face of all that. other comments flourished too, but they cannot currently be remembered. the aliens want our spelling was the universal suspicion. and after that, no doubt, the space between words. that space is fucking wonderful, someone stalwartly declared, and we have to keep it ours. we all cheered such forthright intent, it sounded rich and good. and we all, we realized and determined, had to get down to business.