Distracted by an urban metronome,
The modern humans circulate below.
The vulgar fraction, homelessly at home,
And etched across a mobius tableau,
Meanders to a beat the seconds pace.
Each tick reflects a step, and on they walk
While milliseconds track their neural space
And nanoseconds count each android squawk:
The bursts of light through vacuum-sealed brains.
With thoughts that spin on particles of dust,
The modern men ascend through well-marked lanes
And, single-file, crest through the urban crust.
They redescend, mistaking every time
Whose maestro's tin baton conducts the rhyme.
3 comments:
This one took longer than I anticipated. My intention here was to write something as unenjambed as possible, and yet it's still terminal: for me, making it unenjambed seems to mean simply not ending a thought mid-sentence. So, at least my clauses are mostly fixed. Oh, and there's a slurred word: "sealed," which I find I pronounce with two syllables depending on its placement in the sentence. "File" could be that way too, I suppose, but it isn't in this case.
The beauty of this is how well you crafted it. It is giving me a sinking feeling as it unfolds, a drama mirroring the horror of reality. Sci-fi expressing the lifeless character that modern Christianity's gospel has built, which moves miserably dead to the beat...of the wrong maestro to boot.
Your enjambment mingles sweetly with seemingly nearly stand-alone lines, the imagery and message coupled with the loveliness of poetry making it a symphony so bittersweet and haunting, eerie.
Wow.
I read "sealed" as two as you said, which worked too well.
I am so glad "sealed" worked! The intention otherwise is just as you noted: to paint a horror scene underneath QED's flight, to show the men below who have not yet heard the message that set him free and sparked him to action. I am also glad the general writing of stand-alone lines worked too. That is a weakness of mine.
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