JUST A TOY

Revision number I-don’t-know-how-many of a poem once called “Wreckage.” JUST A TOY Plebes engineered in programs, poured into progress’s molds, preached from the altered world’s altars, scriptures of innovation, new epics of a dawning world. Cybernetic Prometheus’ motherboard liver waits to be torn from his body by the eagle. The eagle, winged justice cites dynamic … More JUST A TOY

WIDGETS

Draft #2 of this poem. Found myself watching people on the street–me included–so plugged into their phones that I felt overwhelmed by how enslaved we can be to our devices pumped full of energy from our energy slaves. WIDGETS I’ve been looking at people as wreckage these days. Bodies founded, scaffolded, adorned then machined. Here, … More WIDGETS