[stylist] Poem - "Email" - Firstish Draft

[Jackie Williams]

Bill,
I am not able to keep up with how prolific you are. Your poem gives great
insight on why some folks always write a note instead of sending an e-mail,
and what holding something in your hand means to many.
I cannot help sending you one on the same subject. It is a cinquain, that
is, 2-4-6-8-2 syllables, non-rhymed.

E-Mail

Alone
at ninety-one
he pecked out messages.
Death came, from Cyberspace, sat in
his place.

Jackie Lee

Time is the school in which we learn.
Time is the fire in which we burn.
Delmore Schwartz	 


-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of William L
Houts via stylist
Sent: Thursday, December 18, 2014 8:58 AM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: [stylist] Poem - "Email" - Firstish Draft




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?"

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