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Poem

Electron herders, 
that's us. It began
earnestly late 20th century.
The first organic computers
using polymerase and qubits
came later. Weaponry
via numbers, words
magically appearing, 
telepathy. Measurements
in which the last significant digit
is the Other. However
immediately depleted
our resources were, 
antibiotics were always at the ready.
Forgetting what we knew, 
reverting to austerity
because in times of prosperity
we forgot to be austere.
It's the uncertainty principle
taken to the nth degree
where the bad god resides, 
Zeus, passionate, confused, obtuse.
Yes, we are electron herders
matter gatherers and shapers
of our time. Cancerous
cysts, irrational exuberance, 
collective experience, experiments
gone well or wrong, 
we were trying all along
to last forever. Flood and fire
saw to that.
Prospero was our answer
who threw his book
into the sea and wanted to be
mortal, meditative.
Find himself. We found
the world without the self
cornus to oxalis
orbitals and calculus
waves and particles
equally likely to be
within us as without us.

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