Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Triad Poem

...

Oil, smoke, electricity
A perfect being emerges:
No emotion, no regret, no memory.

A worn-out spring, a broken bone
Easily disposed, quickly replaced
Gears and levers in the dumpster thrown.

We use and destroy what we must
Clickity-clack, tick-tock
Until we realize the machines are us.

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