Find and share the perfect poems.
for Graham Foust
What is technology if not
a kind of built-in nostalgia
for the frantic past’s long slide
into a slower present
Put another way: a decade
bends 8-bit bells & whistles
into an oxymoron it nearly
hurts remembering
tight lump on your thigh
of quarters in those short
short shorts. It was amazing
when we could bring it home
Now, it’s amazing when we can’t
Copyright © 2015 by Noah Eli Gordon. Used with permission of the author.
It was at first fire
Then volcanoes
Now the latest fear keeping
My daughter’s door open
Through the night
Is that of being afraid
Is there a narrator in this show
She asks as the authority
Of the voiceover in the cartoon
Sometimes starting with a title
Infuses the work
With an insurmountable dread
How is one to fulfill such a promise
To make good on the pact
That art in the end allows
For a kind of connectivity
Life otherwise lacks
Or lacks in those more
Contemplative ways
Since mixing the ingredients
To say a batch of cookies
Is in its own right a sort
Of connectivity if done together
If my hand touching flour touches
Your hand touching the same flour
Look, you
want it
you devour it
and then, then
good as it was
you realize
it wasn’t
what you
exactly
wanted
what you
wanted
exactly was
wanting