Thursday, April 6, 2017

Flying Monkey Rocket Testing Grounds, Hurricane Mesa, Utah, 6 April 2017

Something other than ordinary infected
The ordinary by evening. Electricity,
Handmaiden of mad humanity, went back
And then backwards. Things plugged in
Drained and things lying about took charge.
I did not know what to say that would not
Betray me as one of those in league
With the robots I hoped would wipe us out,
Not because I'm especially fond of robots
But because I am not a fan of organic life,
Which has never managed to subsist here
On this iron-cored, magnetic, solar-wind
Deflecting planet without a gnawing hunger
Demanding the gnawing of hungry others.
Earth is a cannibal mother. Bring on the bots,
I would say, except that at the moment I
Was a blurred spotlight of attention trained
On a strangely moving thing that was not
A bug or a rodent, nor shadow in the house,
But a baffling curl of condensation masking
The fact that daughter wanted to know what
The children of Beauty and the Beast
Would have looked like. The Tin Man smiled.

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