Cell phones rivet eyes
like plasma of a spirit come
to haunt, exhort, advise, extort or taunt:
but they are holy too.
The heart’s affections
know no bounds.
Its predilections run
from what you crave and fear
to querulous hot pink
exorbitances gleaming without
warning on a screen –
abounding with abandon
like a child’s
sudden mind.
You will not find
a devil here.
Unless you find a devil here.
Everything is holy.
Consciousness is queer.
Let the pap of apps
elapse, collapse
into their fractals.
Miraculous!
Virtual is actual.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment