A letter to Mr. Coleridge

Dear Samuel Taylor Coleridge, please forgive this unsolicited missive.  I am writing to inform you that I believe I have found the completion to that fragment Kubla Khan.  It came to me in a dream and I feel the need to write you while it is still fresh in my mind…

Emerson Lighthouse pauses a moment, biting down on the small black kernel held tightly between his teeth.  As the bitter juices assault his tongue he glances over to the front window of his rented brownstone noting with pride the health and vigour of the Splice 9 seedling.  And yet, the feelings of euphoric elation have been somewhat tempered with the continued discovery among his possessions of a series of nearly incomprehensible notes.  For with those notes comes the nagging supposition that they may be of some import, like a cloud of dread shading his sunny disposition.  Two such examples are as follows:

…Researchers working to develop edible vaccines and analgesics in tomatoes, potatoes and corn have been working secretly beyond the reach of governmental regulatory bodies…

…Gene transfer to non-target species may lead to runaway effects with the very real potential for a complete and utter global catastrophe of unprecedented devastation…

‘Now, what possible reason could I have for keeping such mysterious and absurd writings?’  Emerson thinks, ‘they make less sense that that tripe of Coleridge’s… which reminds me…’ Emerson picks up his pen and resumes his epistle.

It is clear, Mr. Coleridge, that the poem should continue thusly –

Just then there is a knock at the door.  ‘Oh my poor luck’ Emerson thinks as he puts down his pen resolving to return to the completion of Mr. Coleridge’s poem later.