Crying as if from a Dream


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We felt the weight of oranges in our limbs
In our loins, we knew we wouldn’t
Be young forever, that even love

Was temporary for a purpose
Driving home, it was all so clear
Your white face, my womb of light

Our electric skin against the
20s something fever of our memoriam
Our permission to be free and reckless
Our dream was the Earth crumbling
And our child could be our redemption

Somehow nature impregnated us with
This little idea, called the future
Each generation fell for it like

The luminous blueprint of tomorrow
We worked so hard just so tomorrow would make it
On time, and in the right way

According to our cultural expectation of it
And if tears could burn in the
Back of our throat, they would now
In the memory of love written on skin
And the promises of forever that seemed
So real and tangible back then….

Identity in Virtualization


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Technological Selfhood

And in the end the whole
World barely noticed us
Such as it were, the distractions

Of technology and so called connectedness
Society had become something
Fantastic and barley in touch with reality

The cultural meme has reincarnated
Into a pseudo-reality that had little
Bearing on evolution, extinction, stars

The important stuff, we were as children
Stuck somewhere between work and play
Duty, nihilism and a pathetic kind of hedonism

I wasn’t proud of what society’s dogmatism
Purely based on a model of consumerism
Capitalism had made our lives trivial

And in the end the whole
World barely noticed you or I
Or just how cut the soul had become

Out of the body, the ownerless materialism
The enchained freedom that was money
We reproduced and bought and sold our time

To the highest bidders, such was urban life
I was not innately proud of the purple plume
Of facial recognition, the city knew me

At least, knew what I bought and where I went
And how to get me to buy more books
There’s no secret to remembering yourself

When you are reminded by your devices
They become an extension of you
And thus so we are told our intelligence is magnified

Somewhere beyond its original ignorance
But, is it life to live inside of a machine
Like a simulation that no longer knows if it’s real.

Titled Below


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Endless minutes of the present

On the eve of my eulogy to Spring
I confess the white silence
Bathes me in its engaged purity

I am a bud of a soul like a leaf
In time, with me till the end
Of all age and breath and lyrical insight

I do not deserve the light of Summer
Let others save themselves in rapture
I will drown in dead silence

Until there is nothing left of song
And all the poets that were part
Of my underlying thirst and condition

Will be unread like grains of sand
That were once diamonds of my consciousness
And so the Earth takes back

All of us each to our rest
I am humble to the facts of life
If I did not see much of you again

It was not that I did not think of you
Only I was embarrassed by the
Blueness of heavenly stuff I had become

And nothing much, in the material world
Seared by something of your likeness
I had become used to darkness & solitude.