Two Poems 𝑏𝑦 milvaspectre

Two Poems 𝑏𝑦 milvaspectre

 

Abecedarian  for my dyin  laptop and its missin  two keys

 

Qwernomic intersections between t e S oles keyboard confi uration and t e Qabala
W at obstacles t is  as posed for t ose of us on t e web
Every keystroke and click an offerin  to Moloc
Rivulets of antitussive accidentally splas ed, stainin  t e keyboard red
T e balance of t e alp abet’s w ole 585  ives way to t e  ematrical unease in 583
Yawnin   ulf of a cracked LCD screen t rowin  w ite wallpaper into relief

U ly cataract  litc es slowly invadin  my screen like ot erworldly fun i
Internet tells me t ere are no En lis  words t at end in “j”
Online as  orror, t e slowest of fades  to black

Pressin  copy and paste to try to cope wit  t e laptop’s dysmorp ic  ell

Alp abet displaced, is Oulipo my new team?
Static to my lan ua e, middle exposed of t is tool’s skeleton
Deleuze’s keyboard, t e Typewriter wit out Or ans, or t e KWO
For all man’s pro ress, lovable folly, stupidity is t e one t in  we can keep
Juulin  now, Camus looks at me and asks if I can  ive  im a tranq
K-deat , t is is t e worst endin  compared to Terminator
Look at t is di ital disfunction, t e misali ned mess
Zi za  across t e letters;  ere t e twinnin  alp abets never meet.
Xavier, my brot er, lets no one touc  t e router or  e’ll yell at you
Connection Issues bein  a most popular leitmotiv.
Visions of p ilosop ers  andlin  flip-p ones wit  wrinkled brow
Bein , tec ne’s reluctant subject, is always in flux.
Now t e  arba e trucks in t e mornin  make me t ink of modernity:
Modernity is t e sound of my broken c ar er’s buzz.

 

 

Google Street View of the Emotional Landscape

 

I wish you could beam drunkenness into my brain
Through the blockchain telepathically
I’d only accept it from you

I’m looking at the map now
While the day is unfurling into night
So scroll I amid tepid sorrow

Copper mounds where memories congeal
And once-busy intersections all at standstill
Move past me indifferently

In this simulacra I am insoluble
Separate from this tableau
Where you sit so far from the Real

It is enough to have lived twice
And now there is no bitterness
Just visits incorporeal and gulfs irreconcilable

Recollection is heavy and warm
Repetition is lighter than air

Bus stops with sunbaked benches
Flowers at the height of bloom forever
Checkered streets where the dead do rise

I could bask in the familiar
So close to that spring time spent with you
But I know I can’t live here