[stylist] Poem - "Email" - Firstish Draft

[William L Houts]

Hi Gang,

Here's this morning's effort.  I've been meaning to get to this one for 
a while and finally, after realizing that I was not going to get any 
more sleep this morning, set out to get it down.  I think it's maybe 
half successful for an early morning jaunt, but your mileage, as always, 
may vary.

Happy Yuletide, everyone!


--Bill


---


Email

We name them email, our light-letters bright, and faster

than wheels, like horses photonical swift

and strange; how they change from a note without wings

or lifte to electrons and back, as if scorning

the air in between. But coursers and fowl can't carry the

metaphor now; our keyboards seize our greetings,

our griefs, and hurl our humanity forth:

our weddings, receipts, our taxes and statements

our shoddy conceits,our notes to gardening Mom.

I'm calm, even cheered about this switch or modern

advance,though something's surely betrayed:
love letters to Mom, Dad's cartoons, Granny's
recipe for spice-rich chicken.
Such hands, our primate hands don't show on otherwise

luminous screens; we need paper for that,wood-skin and

black smelly ink. Understand, I write as well with cursor

ablinkon pristine white. And yet I think:

where is Granny?Whatam I?And where's our ape?











-- 


"Oh, Sophie!  Whyfore have you eated all de cheeldren?"