What fantasm are you gazing at now?
What voices are piped into your
virtual cell?
In this feast of information
why does every photon of my being
go dim
with hunger?
Where the electronic buffet groans
with every possible manic morsel,
why . . .
Why so all alone?
Here where the oxygen of an embrace
is replaced by the choking flicker
of a flat techscape—
cold microcosm of a life—
we, like dazzled cargo,
march one, march all,
into the titans' cyberlabs to
surrender our minds,
to contort the truth we
were born with.
Which face will you wear today
in this blizzard of instant hearts,
gold smiles and clashes for
your attention?
Whose chain will you drag through
the content-crowded dungeon—
one click to paradise,
one click to your inner crypt
and one scroll to entangled solitude,
straight down
to yet another death.
Blue screen of self.
Quick! Shut it down and go outside
before the grass and the actual colors of
the patient fields forget your name; while
the roses still need you; while you're
still breathing like a human.
Pay homage to the joy of it, the pain of
it, the truth of it and perhaps you'll hear
a drizzle of music in the sun or feel some
unfiltered spiritlight kissing the air like
snow all around.
So this is what reality tastes like
in the morning.
Here, this belongs to you:
here, take this back, this life, always
another idea in the dreaming Universe,
always new,
as long as you are here.
Patricia Joan Jones
"As long as you are here" now
"As long as you are here" now here's a line that caps it all up for me. A solid, strong statement that brings it all together. And in the context of the the lines of verse that precede it gives meaning to why we struggle and wrestle the digital behemoth in the first place. It is a grabbing air after having bated breath while reading. Thank you kindly for sharing. /Rik.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
Thank you for expressing,
Thank you for expressing, with breathtaking finesse, my intention exactly. It's a thrill and an honor to receive a visit by such a gifted wordsmith. Means so much.
Im hearing you! Well
Im hearing you! Well described but more than a detox is needed probably a good deprogramming as well! Hugss
Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS
"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."
Deprogramming. Yes! Thank you
Deprogramming. Yes! Thank you for reading and relating.
Like Wallace Stevens,
Like Wallace Stevens, Patriciajj locates her poems' centers of gravity in various places, from poem to poem. (Note to future grad students: one of you might be able to write your disseration on a graph showing us the location of these centers.) In this poem, it is the final twelve lines. In this poem, we learn as well---for all of Patricia's poems having something about which to teach us---that patient fields might forgoet our names; that roses need us . . . while we are still breathing like humans. For that is our role in the Universe, which can only, unassisted, dream of itself: we are to interpret the Universe to itself, to validate its existence with our contemplation of that existence. In ancient times, Poets named the stars, then constellated them into the characters and symbols of our stories. Patricia, like those ancient Poets, does some of that in her poens; she also reminds us why it is important that patient fields do not forget our names, why it is good that roses still need us; and, while we take our human breath, we will also "hear / a drizzle of music in the sun / or feel some unfiltered spiritlight kissing the air like /snow all around."
I must apologize for my delay in commenting. I am hospitalized, having nearly bled to death internally fifteen days ago. But when Patricia posts a poem it is, in my opinion, an EVENT on postpoems, and one which will not allow me to voluntarily postpone my response. Patricia's poems speak cosmically; they take such a long, high view that the posting of each one is well worth setting aside any restrictions that obstruct in order to read or to comment---because she creates her poems at the highest and most ancient level of Poetry, the cosmic.
J-Called
First, I'm truly sorry to
First, I'm truly sorry to hear about your ordeal and the fact that you're still suffering. My prayers and best wishes go out to you. I certainly didn't expect a review, and a profound one at that, while you're in the hospital so I'm deeply touched that you took the effort to read and leave such astounding footprints.
As always you discern my intent, then hit the bullseye with surprising precision and expansive insight. Your stellar reflections are poetry itself and more appreciated than you can imagine.
Hoping and praying that you'll recover soon and finish your own celestial collection.
Countless thank you's!
Thank you for saying so.
Thank you for saying so.
J-Called
Digital Addiction
fav lines:while/the roses still need you" apt argument for a vacation from soc-med. on walk today I SAW CROCUSES AND THEY NEEDED ME! THEN CAME HOME to catch up on Seth Meyers's Closer Look.
"...perhaps you'll hear/a drizzle of music in the sun"
Bravo line, grabed me and shook! A tentative delicately delivered line-an admonition re missed alternatives softly spoken. Big wow factor.
Appreciation from you is
Appreciation from you is something to celebrate! Thank you for looking at this with such a luminous eye and eloquent interpretations. YOU write the bravo-worthy verses.
When can I buy your book?
A precise science taken from enchanting echoes of heaven's hieroglyphs
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitutes
Thank you kindly for your
Thank you kindly for your thrilling and exquisite feedback. The thought of compiling a book right now, with everything that's going on in my life, seems overwhelming, but your encouragement has made me a little more open to the idea. Thank you!