When Eve, you were mine
My on your side time is their pride over the wonder
& sparing hon. Beck two speckled cow.
Morning a token on the fairy bread complet & so
over the vault that is the cult of the flying trapeze onto their knees
shattering in glass I said it wouldn’t last.
My friend is fond of saying that we’re only one
generation from losing our history & contexts & words & meaningful
vocabulary. We’re in an age that doesn’t read & references ever decreasing
circles of knowledge. A people trapped only in their time, who do not read the
minds of other eras centuries millennia past think theirs is the first age,
the only age, the most important age. They do not know multiple perspectives.
They do not know what a person is. They call us humans as do their non sentient
algorithms which speak of me as the object, as if they’re the subject of the
sentence. Of course, most people these days do not understand how a sentence is
made & its philosophic, legal ramifications. It is a darkening plain as
Eliot wrote. That’s why I took the boat to the river Styx & heard Robert
Johnson’s deal with the devil. Back at the beginning of time. When Eve, you
were mine.
Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.
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