Wednesday, March 17, 2010

The Poetry of My Digital Life!

How digital my poetic life is,
How cold, print-like and flat!

How digital have become my eyes, my lips and my memory?

No trace of ink on my fingers, when I struggle
to touch on the soul of a faraway spring,
or the fear of a spring to come!

And when a phrase tickles my mind
and pours out of me,
I am often looking at the crowded road,
Surrounded by the scent of American highways,

And there is no scratch, no friction, no stroke,
when I materialize on a fake digital page.

Frozen, like a narrow creek in a harsh winter,
this is how digital my poetic life is, at the beginning of the spring!

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