When it
prompts
don't fall
for it,
don't respond.
It's not really
interested
in anything
you think,
or have to say.
Every time
you answer
it feeds
and grows
like a digital
tapeworm -
an algorithmic
parasite
that bores
holes
in your soul.
Ignore it
and it dies.
There's a child
in your room
and a dog.
In the dream
the train we are on slows
to approach the station.
We hear the rhythmic
clacking of tracks
underneath our feet
like a faltering pulse.
We are together in the railcar
you, me, our children,
our family
and small circle of closest friends,
everyone we know and love.
The air is thick
with inevitability.
We don’t speak.
Wheels grind, the railcar jolts
to a shrieking halt.
Doors slide open,
I exit onto the platform,
without a word, alone.
It is white, antiseptic.
I face the doors of the railcar,
watch as they seal,
glimpse you through the window.
It’s as if you haven’t noticed
that I’m gone. You’re mind
is on your destination.
The train starts to slide
away.
I don’t react.
I don’t know where I am
but it doesn’t matter.
It’s enough for me
to know that you are safe.
“The Machine still linked them. Under the seas, beneath the roots of the mountains, run the wires through which they saw and heard, the enormous eyes and ears that were their heritage, and the hum of many workings clothed their thoughts in one garment of subservience”
from The Machine Stopped (1909) by E.M. Forster
on the 20th anniversary
It's been said
that 9/11
was not a failure
of security
but of imagination -
it's hard to argue,
and even more
failure of love
and hope
those two shimmering towers
of heart and of mind
that we must build
and re-build
every
day.
What will be said of him
is that he muddled through,
and it will be true:
He kept his goals to himself
(if he had any at all)
because he didn't want
his failures on display
and he never had much clarity
on what success meant
anyway.
Then one day
someone came along
purely by chance
and he looked up
(from the book he was reading)
and fell instantly deeply in love,
he knew it was love
because he saw details
in someone else
he had never seen before
in anyone,
and he said 'here I am'
and he said 'I am here'
and he stepped forward
out of line
as a young man would
who volunteers
for a dangerous mission,
fearful but unafraid
to live.
This is just to say
I'm sorry to hear
your dog died.
I know how much you loved
that dog.
She was a good dog,
one of the best,
learned some commands,
never chewed the furniture,
never shitted or peed in the house.
I know how you enjoyed
taking her for walks
in the neighbourhood.
How watching her
playing with the other dogs
at the dog-park brought you joy,
she never fought.
How good-natured she was.
How she wagged her tail
when you came home
from work at the end of the day -
and seemed to be able
to read all your moods.
She'd come to you
when you were sad or depressed,
and stay away
when you were upset.
How attentive she was,
she seemed to understand,
and easy to please,
all she needed
was to have her fur stroked
or occasionally her belly scratched
to be happy. I know you’ll
keep great memories of her,
as a member of the family.
Do you think you'll get another one?
