Tuesday, November 8, 2016

Katherine Stuart At the computer #8

This cave I’ve got,
I have to keep it from being

I drill it daily deeper into the WEB
Where I am prey
To my own not-so-secret
Screeching desires for a quiet bit of knitting
Or sewing or anything that involves more senses
than the trip-tripping of fingers across keys
Their repetitive clacker-clack like the feet of a huntsman spider closing in

My unblinking eyes

And the straitjacket that seems to be growing
Organically around my ergonomic pose.
Could be a cocoon out of which I might emerge
A butterfly if I play my cards right
– at least that’s what’s keeping me here

as the ads I’ve looked at flash and dance
and dangle themselves alluringly
So I won’t notice as they slice into my brain and target me, ME
With algorithmic accuracy.

I sink my teeth into WORK
Holding on like grim DEATH
Retreating further into that cocoon or is it a straitjacket
Where the thudding of my blood seems to be getting
Softer as my cave closes over behind me

The silence is deafening —
Deus ex machina!!


  1. Katherine, you have captured this so well. Yes, yes, yes.

  2. ah, your dark storage place of machine poems?! love this :)

  3. Thanks Efi. Just the bit of my humanity I try to salvage every day at the damned thing!


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