by Gregory Crosby
I tire of treating the world as an
email I wish to delete unopened.
The newspapers turned into soggy boats,
sailing down gutters slick with oil & blood.
The software hardening into tyrants,
tyranny softening into a shrug.
The round trip of light years between money
& its lack, between those with souls & those
who bury their souls in the gravel pit
of the self. I tire of arguments
for the enshrinement of argument,
of this waste of electricity,
lightning without illumination,
corrupted code like sheets of black rain.
So much to tell versus the energy
to tell it; the silence of the deep breath.
I tire, & then I exhale, & draw
again, not knowing what words will come next.
Gregory Crosby is the author of Said No One Ever (2021, Brooklyn Arts Press) and Walking Away From Explosions in Slow Motion (2018, The Operating System).