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Poem

right here, now, as i type,
characters are getting 
that sinking feeling of 
their own digital oblivion

i am typing in my "working" file,
the one where i always start out with 
a few words or lines i might forget
if i don't net them right away

and they always start out on top
in the fresh digital aire of light
flashing their shiny tails and i's
and are captured for all posterity

should posterity ever be in need
of some flagrant synapses output
that fired through my skull
at some 100 metres per second

the thoughts from yesterday or,
tragically, a few moments ago
are pushed lower in the techno-lit
ocean of all possible lines

sinking slowly from sight
with their little character-eyes
looking up toward the light of
my screen receding in the now

there must be 53,696 characters
(statistics being numbered in many ways)
sinking now, like so many plankton
or diatoms in the digital oceans

to feed the dark "word fish"
and other creatures, maybe something
glow-in-the-dark with ghastly teeth
like in my fourth grade biology book

yet if those 53k of diatomic letters
are really four-letter-words 
that have been puzzlingly rearranged
like blinking cursor literary DNA

just think of all the swearing
that might be bubbling out
of that digital Davy Jones at
the bottom of this oceanic chest

© Goode Guy 2011-10-07

...argh!

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