Spoken first, particular last
With a mightier introduction, ahead
Since sincerity, since seclusion, so fast...
Has the voice of a beautiful angel, awoken to lead...

Meetings of the mind
Continue in the voice, meager times
Hope and surmisal, can be so kind...
Letting a lost promise, become strength's trying...

Survival's prophecy, of the fittest
Where in, stirs of shared conscience
Is the can't, the cope of truth, a senses test...
Adage over communed liberty, overtly presence...

A tale of two liberty's
Shown a calling, a creed to instinct, due
Know a keep, beyond which is civility...
Ready an eye, of comprehension is anarchy's you...

Salt to salt, spice to spice
Where, out to dance among intuition's stars
Has the new voice, of now in love twice...
The rue of simplicity, the risk of summation, by far...

I sense loss and yearning all around
I used to chalk it up as a personal hurdle to jump
or just the feeling of aging while the youth still goes on
Yet I think I this malaise is widespread
Impacting all of us in our glitching global trade

I used to think the issue was there’s just too much now
Too much to watch, listen, and taste
You don’t need the hunt anymore
Don’t need to wait or pay some exorbitant price
I used to feel overstimulated by the streams
and just could not decide
I still feel, it’s not that we want to do the thing,
but we yearn to want to want to do the thing
again

Is that all that’s changed?
Those who are not ready to be creators
will certainly not be ready to be curators
Freed ourselves from DJs and TV programming
but what control have we flailed ourselves into?
Wasting hours a day watching 30 second videos
whose categories are heavily curated
impersonally, just for you
Remember when user preferences worked
and in searches they wouldn’t hide the whole list
of all that was relevant and new?

I’m shirtless after
getting too hot in the best kitchen stool spot
It’s where the dog will leave me alone for a sec
It’s a weird winter
every year now, but they say the Great Lakes are
the best place to ride climate change out
It’s been too cold, now it’s getting too hot for this time of year
so the old Watkins Glen hoodie was too much
I almost ripped the front neck like an 80s girl
but I didn’t have the strength
If walks are still out of the question,
I better start doing physical comedy
around the house like Three's Company because
I said I was going to

We could have had it all
we still could
We reached peak performance
we almost reached Star Trek replicators
The whole world enjoying life saving advancements
over a hundred years
Only for it to decline for the first time
instead of just sabotaged into a slowdown like before
Those billionaires want to stay relevant
Even though they’re beyond useless
They’re a detriment to our democratic progress
just to preserve their status as economic royalists
who decry the decline of Victorian social deference

Remember Kurt Vonnegut talking about his school
in the era of almost proficient public funding?
He was excited to have a jazz band
Until these types of things were deemed unimportant
for those who may need them most

Now we have the technology to exceed the speed and competence
of the 80s, 90s, and aughts
but the the profit motive just gets stronger and more depersonalized
We’ll teach them to fish by killing them all

The wheel of fortune turns for me,
And always, revolves at its own leisure.
Time is curved where the future will be,
But always flat when it is measured.

The rest is a serpent, in every direction,
Forever consuming the end of its tail.
Self contained death and resurrection,
Superluminal ship, without wind or sail.

Will you safekeep our knowledge when it is done?
Humanity’s worst as well as its best?
Will you mind if it’s turtles, all the way down?
A stable foundation on which to rest?

Where will you fall, at the teeth or the tail?
Destroying or rebuilding anew?
If All is cyclic, then we’ll meet once more,
Eternal versions of me and of you.

There was a bang at the door, but it wasn't the pizza.
Marcus revealed himself to a man standing a head taller, who was buttoned up in a well fitted suit.
"Mr. Williams?" the man asked.
Marcus shook his hand.
"Marcus. How can I help you?"
The man introduced himself as Daniel ***, a representative for Eris Save States, LLC.

     "Wow." Marcus stared down at this kitchen table.
Daniel gathered his papers, and bowed his head.
"I want to make it absolutely clear," Daniel said,
"You're under no obligation, whatsoever,
to take any action with this information.
I understand this may be overwhelming news."

     Only muddy images came to Marcus's mind. Her light brown hair. Her green eyes. Her umber skin. Out of touch, out of reach. Running from mom, running from school. A ghost, ghosted him, and that was that.

There is an algorithm out there,
somewhere on the web
it is calculating my every click
my likes, my comments
how many hours I spend at night
browsing poetry
or probably ****.

There is an algorithm out there,
somewhere on the web
it collects my style, my taste
it knows my favorite color,
it has studied my face
the way no lover ever has,
down to the freckle.

There is an algorithm out there,
somewhere on the web
it knows things about me
my friends or family would never ask.
It knows how many times
I have searched the word 'suicide'
how many times I asked for nudes
and how many times I received.
It knows my greatest fears
but also my most coveted dreams.
It knows things about me
I may have forgotten about me.

There is an algorithm out there,
somewhere on the web
it has created an image of me
I would rather not see
nor believe in its legitimacy
yet every time I go to type
its guesses my next thought
with pinpoint accuracy.

There is an algorithm out there...