Swallowing a Sundial: Runaway Tools of the Upright

As I was reading of the mechanisms

of an industrial age,

the clock on the wall skipped in its chiming;

a stutter in the artery -

anachronistic specter

of blaring clicks,

winding.

 

It resumed, then, its steady rhythm.

To my astonishment,

I found that it is

always present, lingering

but never heard;

a molecule in invisible air,

churning.

 

In this new technological soup,

I marinate,

unconscious.

Where is the equivalent tick

I cannot hear,

even as I am cooked in its viral waters,

mechanized.

 

Is this ladder leaning on the wall,

the chain, the tock, that wants and will

claim a new dawn;

a nano rosary

polished to silk

that finds us at the feet

of a digital god,

repenting.  

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

runaway technology...the digital gods....

sundials...old non-digital alarm clocks....i wish the world would wake up and realize technology is putting us to sleep.
marvelous insights and metaphor in this poem.
j.

[Kristina Moulaison]

Thanks Jacob!