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The Pen is Merely an On Switch

Adam’s pen writ

upon our hearts

fatal words

quieted by mental mutterings

whirring a variety of gizmos and whatch-a-ma-gigs’

zooming so fast past our unseen eyes

that depth perception and forward motion

become an illusion—

accomplishment and motivation: oil is our appetite.

our feeding hands keep churning mouths running

so our simple ears are too satisfied to hear…

our hearts’ whimper.


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