in the garden of weeds
You, eve,
took the
forbidden
fruit
while
my back
was turned,
and did not
even share
it.
The Farm
like little ants they
scurry
about
over clear cable,
careful not to flip any
one or any
zero
lest the big bad monster
come and
spray RaiD.
Nevermind, that this
spray could cause a
panic
that too many dead little
ants could clog these
pipes.
Nevermind, that this
poison may drip
off our optic nerves
and saturate
the soil which
nourishes us.
The crumbs they carry
away, are just a
byte to
eat
really-
So few are they;
the small smart
ones who
steal knowledge
on their
backs.
I
do not worry abt.
infestation,
I
take my
crumbs
when
I am hungry.
i could disappear
It's funny how
the brain stays
on,
a dedicated line-
a 14.4+ connection to
your body.
It's silly how
the heart ticks
as if
every beat were an
atomic clock counting
down.
And wonderous still
how the world
goes on
depite what
we do,
yet seems
to turn
for us
alone.
missjesus@geocities.com
ALL POEMS THIS PAGE Copyright October 1998