Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Can't Sleep

Luckily I worked on a few poems today (polished them up).

Here's the first - we're starting with the saddest one, I guess. Sorry 'bout that.


Every move is artificial, every gesture
Learned from film, glass eyes set in
Plastic skin.
Recorded speeches to sound realistic,
Practiced signals to move, and bend,
Adjust the head, and look as if it
Understands. But it doesn't - and never will.
Knock, shout, scream, yell
There's no one here.

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