Calcified words
unable to break free
from the chains
of those that came before
sit helpless
before the wall
that demands precision
and become documents in the trash
as a new blank page
glides out of the dark sky
through the window
like a white Swan
calling for its mate.
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New Muses for a Posthuman Age
Late last year I wrote a 10 sonnet sequence entitled New Muses for a Posthuman Age, the idea being to update the goddesses and answer...
