I crawled along the corridor of life

carrying the cogent plans of the clever

whose want is to waken us instantly,

look at messages from every corner of 

the earth on themes

and memes and news and queues

of things they want us to know.


The weight wormed into my back 

and heart, bearing the dying and

of the tears of those working,

mining, suffering, bullied and lost

so that we can send a blooded email.


We’re booked and bound by

invisible threads in the air, 

violating lands so far away so that

we can play with our slave made stuff

and joke that we’re, oh, so woke.


Tantalum, platinum, palladium and niobium

lithium, indium, gallium and women’s bodies,

copper, gold, silver, tin, phosphorus, 

antimony, arsenic, kid’s childhoods, 

boron, men’s lives, manganese, 


silicon and poverty in thought

and act and deed bringing loneliness

and an aching loss for those times

when we spoke and not poke,

and made friends face to face.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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