Left to his own devices,
he would go on publishing poetry
like the stranger at the ice station
firing rockets to the moon,
releasing mechanisms, lock and load projectiles,
sales of his last book no better than his first,
but now using the latest technology,
an icon bouncing at the bottom of the page,
opening up the latest application,
backlighted keys easy to see
in the dim light of a four o’clock morning...
The high-speed DSL cable rumbling like
a freight train outside the home/office walls,
carrying its cargo of digital chatter
somewhere out to interplanetary space,
somewhere out there where the Internet
occupies rooms for rent in the heavens.
The rings of Saturn must be
his neighbors or his peer group.
Funny how the birdsongs come and go
enhanced only by those that believe
in the magic of birdseed and birdsongs.
I suspect Emily Dickenson didn't have
this cool technology or these backlighted keys.
Think what she could have done!
©Peter Bray 1/28/10 All rights reserved
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