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Click here[Creator\\:program/humankind/brain]
Champagne corks
executing fantasies;
"love is such a fragile thing."
Garbage dump: Recycle Bins
and rebound fucks,
embedded in the code for life.
Your Father - Searching: term not found.
The manual reads back to front or left to right:
a hieroglyphic,
Chinese-whisper syntax out of joint,
compiling broken hardware in the dark;
the overheated warning system,
gasping out the crashed, untimely birth.
Round glasses on eternal eyes
pushed up to rub the bridges of your nose;
invite each spawned illegal soul to complicate
and to love the hacker and the virus both.
run/child.[home]
/run.
...have shown me enough skill and elegance in previous poems that i always read you when i see you have a new piece.
this poem? . . . IMO, you are trying too hard, reaching toward some innovation or super-unique images you perhaps think will make your writing stronger. for me, this poem doesn't work. it is too obvious from the start, and the first time i have ever cringed slightly at any of your efforts.
i would suggest you stay grounded, and rely on natural ability, which you have in abundance. keep it in the real world, where you have such a keen eye and a way to get at the little, important things.
and brilliant. I love the imagery here, esp in the stanza:
'Round glasses on eternal eyes
pushed up to rub the bridges of your nose;
invite each spawned illegal soul to complicate
and to love the hacker and the virus both.'
Pure genius