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Green Ink |
You keep telling me there is order in the universe.
The geometry of nature,
that fractals dance
when I can't add three-digits,
or figure out sales tax.
You say it's hidden in the folds of chaos,
cannot be embodied until spoken
with a beat,
the rhythm of stars in heat-
it sounds like poetry.
Revelation in computation:
digital monkeys
swinging from 100 terabyte hard drives.
The language of the Encoded
into cell phone kids,
blissfully unaware of time
casting its net
eating them for lunch.
Self-confessional hip-hoppers
preaching Tolerance,
practicing compassion
even for their
absent fathers, mothers & mentors
too busy consuming and
buying back their youth
at any price.
copyright 2003
Kim
Cochran |
