wrong footed
4/25/2023 with so little time left of napowrimo why does my body misbehave?
Machine 4/25/2023, Con/Jur/d “I’m not a machine!” we said, although even then, the signs were, there, cast back through time, or wormed through the ahistorical present, the so-called now, is riddled with the parasitic past and future And I hear a Voice saying “Careful how long you make your lines, not too short, although our hand machines prefer short, fast poetry” and mechanically I listen “I’m not a machine!” so the host that is you, I all of us, say in unison, although my relationship with doctors, can be contentious, the first time some - thing went wrong, the flesh failed (or we saw it in others) “You didn’t give the doctor a chance to speak,” she said “Sure you're a hypochondriac,” he said “but not really since you have this way of drilling down, playing with rather than believing” Wanted to be fixed, like we were a car that needed a mechanic and those obsessions with tech didn’t help “I don’t believe, you’re ready yet” O it’s true we know it in our plutonium hearts been busy dismantling the lies of progress trying to remember, “I’m not a machine!” Easy to say harder to believe all the way down into our hydrogen, helium guts the one we feel the universe in 3 fingers down, a few inches behind the belly button where we’re filled with stars where we reside “Not working,” said the monk in reply Struggling to remember “The machinery has failed,” we said Hard, these days although I’m not sure it ever-was, ever-willbe as long as we name it it can be assembled chemistry, electricity -- quantum mechanics “But, but, but,” we sputter “I am not a machine!”
Much love,
Con/Jur/d, 4/25/2023