Invocation to Ingenuity: Poetry Friday

This is my first Poetry Friday post. Toby Speed's cat Kashi,
at A Writer's Armchair, is this week's host.
I didn't plan to use one of my own efforts--it seems a bad way enter into new company, to be honest. But I had time for

a hundred indecisions, 

And for a hundred visions and revisions, 
Before the taking of a toast and tea. 

Invocation to Ingenuity

I am prepared to paint my door blue

or yellow to welcome you in.

I will not paint it red with the blood of children.

(I have my limits.)

Neither the smell of solder

nor the impression of a transistor on my sole

will make me banish you.

(I may yell out in the darkness, but I will love you still.)

Generosity you will find at my table,

Although the apples may be hidden

under the day’s junk mail.

(Use those envelopes to make your marks and draw your maps.)

Enter into us and make our hands

your hands.

Help us turn copper wire into spiders.

(Or at least robotic spiders.)

Nourish our aberrations

as we nourish you,

and lead us not into the neurotypical but to a new kingdom.

(A kingdom where there is no king at all.)

Unwind my stacks and my secrets.

Find me when I am lost,

but don’t assume I want to go home.

(I am not Ulysses. The world has never seen me before.)

Ignore commands; override

directives; move the plot along.

What we knew was almost always wrong anyway.

(Especially when we had faith in it.)

Translate me out.

Send me like a drawing and disk on Voyager

or the May 4^th,  1957 broadcast of  Huntley and Brinkley.

(But please let me say “Good Night” before I wave goodbye,)

You know we are Nothing

and Nobody without you.

and with you--only a notion.