No fractal mythic places here
No shadows deep
No burning eyes
In forest night.
Only angles right
A plastic flight
A constant din
Of hungry blight
Of need and want
Of turgid blessings
On the screen
To feed us, sightless
Into slaughtered selves
Ready, willing
And unable
|
Where is my place?
I knew it when I felt it.
In silence.
In my hands.
Touching clay.
Feeling the light folded
Into shadow.
Touching you.
The hearts thought
Quickens with the finger's pulse.
Where is this place?
These fingers lost
Among the dead keys of industry,
The flaccid pulse of digital noise.
The ratcheting click of hard driven envy,
Leaves me empty.
Here.
|
|
