103


glass–colored lives
meet on intersecting highways—networks
as fragile, dissatisfying
as exposed fiber–optic
cores—peer through layers
of misinformation, disinformation,

distraction, sensation.

and
desire.

… searching, searching
always

lonely.

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102


silhouettes
and outlines

dancing silently
against white-washed walls
flaking with age

merry
in the dust,
figures drawn up,
flattened

unknowns
flaking with age

99


and in the end,
i saw it all

strewn violently across the salt flat
i had come to call home,
had laid upon, had opened my wounds to
the nature of that place, and clenched my fists
as they burned and blistered

these were my pains, my dreams
before i dragged knives
through the canvas
of my life and ground our future
to dust

it wasn’t pretty,
but i saw it all,
felt it all,
knew the wreckage of my own hand
and the agony of my sorrow,
my regret,

all too well

93


to effect change
is to chance ridicule, wrath,
isolation – loneliest
martyrdom – for the sake
of something better

what is worth
that sacrifice?

what is worth
that pain?

what calls
that souls who were content
abandon the path
more taken?

what drives
the madness
of revolution
that courses through
afflicted veins?

contagion
is inevitable

91


// control
class I {
     public static void main(String[] args) {
          System.out.println(“hello, i…”);
     }
}
———————————
$ javac I.java
$ java I
hello, i…
$ exit

———————————
// no control
class Me {
     public static void main(String[] args) {
          System.out.println(“hello, i…”);
          for (int i = 1; ; ) {
               System.out.println(“… who am i?”);
          }
     }
}
———————————
$ javac Me.java
$ java Me
hello, i…
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
… who am i?
..<CTRL-C>
$ <RETURN>
$ <RETURN>
$ <RETURN>
$ java I
hello, i…
$ <RETURN>
$ <RETURN>
$ exit

90


standard format
(read
     between
          the lines)
like solid, pinstriped
curtains, bars
bewildering,
beguiling,
building from foundations
laid down in a long-past era;
     (read lines
          like poetry,
          like sweetness
     ripened on the tongue
          of someone familiar)
jot, dance
pen on paper,
savor…
these are the quiet moments,
the structured solitude
making meaning out of chaos.

89


i like to think that Sisyphus
was born of perverse persuasion,
that he and Atlas
had a bet
to see who could last longer;
Sisyphus, Man who would best Titan

… Man who would best all
the Eternals: Olympian, Titan…
and all of Gaia’s Wrath

… Man who would be Supreme,
who would conquer all the Heavens,
who would teach the Earth and Celestial Sphere
to bend to his Will

lest they suffer Fate’s cruel reprimand

… Man who would be God,
if only for an instant

who would see the End
by His means, a slave
to all His Passions

… Man who would be more,
wanted more
than He could ever have

… Man and Fate
lighting fires in the fabric
of the Cosmos,
wondering eternally
if all was as it seemed