Poem: Digital
The future is digital.
Excuse me, I must change
my battery, otherwise
my life is gone
as if it never existed
in the real world
whatever that is
at any given moment
but wait! Is that
paper money I see?
Let me see. It’s been so long.
I forgot it has a smell
like tears and semen,
iron-rich blood, gods of glory,
suited whores.
Poem: The Shadow
The shadow roams across the skin like that of a sundial,
marking time. It has no counterpart in reality, yet is real.
Peter Pan lost his shadow. Perhaps this geography is his.
The terrain once smooth, perfect in the light of memory,
is sad, worn and populated by fear, isolation, loneliness.
France is found on the elbow. Zimbabwe on the knuckle.
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