So much of now (a poem)

Saturday, March 29, 2025

You can only sacrifice
so much of now,
before the construct
lifts off
and takes you so far from here,
you become
an alien
in your own home.

Unwelcome
in my own body,
my love buried—
she doesn’t even see me,
lying here.

Disjointed,
discomfort,
squirming
in our own skin.

The chasm,
that prism,
that distance,
the quanta
and its tangled webs—
the mesh of meaning.

We are vibe coding,
the complex
oversimplified—
a child
with a real space laser.

The lever
and the button,
to send more of them.
The vacuum
of a void,
and a dangerous ego,
armed to the teeth,
with an appetite
for himself.

It’s just
1 zero one one
×6 times
the Divided States,
plus one million—
internet mobs
coming for you.

The edge,
over the top,
out back,
in the tall grass—
Dad hasn’t been out
or cut it
this month.

He’ll get to it—
subversion of an ache,
to perform our duty
despite
the absent warmth.

Despite
and besides—
step aside,
I said,
despite it.