Little wittle wheels on my vinyl floor,
sucking up the discarded, munched, and crumbed,
sucking up socks that are worn and smelly, the fur of a white underbelly,
sucking up rubber-banded, chewed, scrapped up paper,
sucking up springs that have sprung along,
sucking up sounds, click click purr, I’m afraid to check—
Roomba, no!
Not the springs that sprang sprung,
not the water drying on clean flooring,
not the thrifted and founded,
not the antique and unique!
Roomba, no more.
This piece has appeared in Outrageous Fortune and can be viewed here.
This piece has appeared in Outrageous Fortune and can be viewed here.
I asked a god to give me a sign –
had one heard me I would recognize.
Alone I had to stand trial to the divine.
Submerged my prayers to a greater design:
an experiment in wisdom exorcized.
I asked a god to give me a sign.
Apocalyptic rebirth scorned an earthen shrine,
no stone unturned to be sterilized.
Alone I had to stand trial to the divine,
with a greater fear to which I resign
my status in life. For one but to be paralyzed
as I asked a god to give me a sign.
Ruinous justice held high thine
words clenched in a jaw to be memorized.
Alone I had to stand trial to the divine.
Seraphim above malign
in a space where man once prophesied.
Once I asked a god to give me a sign–
I alone had to stand trial to the divine.