Adam’s pen writ
upon our hearts
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.