Tuesday, October 25, 2011

A Fun Offering To The World Gadget



What if I were writing this in long-hand
and my computer was switched off somewhere
and I was outside in the open air
say, sitting on a beach towel in the sand

say, writing something structured but unplanned
about gadgets, fun gadgets that don’t care
if I want fun or rescue from despair
or love or money or to understand,

then is the world a gadget around me,
not a wristwatch or a calculator
or a camera, but the sea and sun

and sand grains compressing underneath me—
by pushing my pen, playing creator,
would the world gadget accept this as “fun”?

















. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .



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The Criss-Crossing Of Sara’s Hair


I Can’t Sleep In My Kitchen





























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