Catherine Rampell

I look at your words
on printed page
and spoken

I hear the beauty
of your thought
and your ideas

I feel the warmth of Florida
I see the open computing facility

Your beauty is striking
and welcome
in a world of cold gray ghosts
and vaporwave

Surely we must be learning

We watch the play
you are staging

We hold the flower
to lay
upon the grave

I saw you
on Hardball

I thought you
were the most beautiful


And for that momenbt. You were.

And then I found you in half muttered retreats
of the silent streets
of the network of humankind

And your simple ideas
about economy
and truth

Took on an old, comfortable shine
And I realized

That this beauty you had
is the beauty you have
and the beauty you will always hold

Not just for the Post.
But for the world.