Note-taking While Reading “The Marvel Ciphers of the Gig Economy”
We know what kind of people we are–
musical or allergic,
sclerotic and/or criminal–
based upon the ads we are fed.
In the economy of the hypermobile
fetish,
we can’t not internalize
what we might be prone to buy
if signaled to.
Last week we were contacted
by radio waves
three hundred billion light years away,
an incident many argued proves
that the desire to bloviate in the
conveyance of mere presence
knows no solar system’s
jurisdiction.
Meanwhile, a set of
copper wound strings shimmers
in an animated gif
with all that strings suggests:
dark matter, quarks,
celestial windings, an elegant
bridge of spruce and bone.
Note-Taking While Listening to “The Dock of the Bay”
Cold hemocoels of the mollusk,
ambergris lanced from a demigod’s head,
ballasts shifted according to the tide.
Long necks in Styrofoam
filled with ice.
The sea produces grey scales
no animal can wear.
The eyes have microcosmic
temperaments so that to speak
of storms must be a literal act,
a description indifferent to
the eventuality of wreckage
and submersion, the steady
leach of summer. A freight
of stone trudges further into
depths over the course
of an afternoon. I can name
every kind of wave that carries it.
