Monday, November 15, 2010


his preference is isolation and
mine is community
but we fall each into
the others
out here in the wilds
there are few people to
choose, to really befriend~
for me, there is no other,
makes him more rare, like emeralds
i amongst my chickens and poetry
and him all absorbed
in gadgetry and advance
the people they gravitate towards
his kindness like moths to flame
and I alone remain
visualizing a world where things
are still done by hand
with effort and pride by
artisans while he
automates the world
with his smile,
an art all his own

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