Poem: Gen

 

Gen

 

in the now of nothing

we worked and ached,

trying to be ourselves

by lining up and not speaking out

against the system that had silenced

us.

 

we breathed smoke but it was good,

sacrificed peace and content,

but it was a requirement as

stress and thrill zipped along

fast as the latest microchip.

 

birds had been replaced,

by winding wings in

the hands and levers

of cellular clocks.

the soft green of leaves

gone into the sidewalks,

where rain was a gutter drink,

the fake liquid of glass

the only clean water.

 

this was our future,

feckless in our rectangles.

and yet we were part of something insuperable,

a growing might. 

 

it was magical and polymer,

both quantum and ether,

a snake oil that linked our souls 

together to become something more than machine,

smarter than caution or calculation,

better than any drug.

 

 

 

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1/7/26 ... eds all day