Wednesday, June 25, 2014

The Headphones of A Muse

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.
(

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 4th,  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.
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