death hymn to technology
thank you, technology, for our history together:
for the days when your far-reaching thunder
lubricated my brain’s rusty furrows,
when I lived in perpetual wonder;
before you sent your tum’rous forests
clear across the centuries:
great tangled nets of rods and cables
growing up like rock formations
underground and overnight and bursting to the surface,
penetrating heart, lungs, hands and fingers
of an unsuspecting traveler
asleep out in the dirt…
o! my love, my lord, permit me,
though of common ancestry,
to dwell in some peripheral place
as your grotesque accessory
hunched over with the mouse in mouth
—a flayed skin laid out on the road to cure,
lit only by your pallid glow
—encircled by your lights of red
I lose my limbs, give you my head,
the dying nature in me vomits
something like a constellation
