Artificial
deep in the orifice of some unseen machine,
invisible chords dangle from the sky.
is this the blood and pulse of the future,
every household
connected by veins of electricity in its breast?
every roomy lobe
drawn to dreams in hidden hardware?
an ivy a trellis a noose
no axe can chop and yet every muscle obeys.
all life hostage to sparks,
a leapfrog of sockets, circuits, prongs
and airwaves.
no embryos, though, in the code’s uteri,
and even death might not be safe.
could crypts be seized, coffins hacked
to own the laugh of Buddha,
wear the thorns of Jesus,
upbraid the witches of Wicca?
no one has any idea,
while so many necks crawl and crawl,
where this hydra is going.
==================================
"What is your relationship to the program?"
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